Slouching Towards Bethlehem
by Vilandra4
Summary: Kennedy isn't just some Potential Slayer - she can see things that others can't. But will her ability help or hurt in the fight against the First? Exploration of Kennedy's character with a twist. Also featuring Buffy/Faith romantic plot.
1. La Bella Muerte

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Joss.

Notes: This story is set during season 7, though I plan to deviate significantly from canon, particularly with the Kennedy character and the relationship between Buffy and Faith. The title is borrowed from the W.B. Yeats poem "The Second Coming." Additionally, I drew inspiration from the recent movie _The Eye_.

Chapter One: La Bella Muerte:

"Kennedy," Eli whispered harshly. "Kennedy, you have to wake up!" Kneeling beside her bed, he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest, regretting each word that would potentially disturb the peace she was experiencing in sleep, but determined to wake her none the less. "Kennedy!" He wished that he could touch her, but he knew that if he tried, his hand would pass through her bronzed, sculpted shoulder like a beam of light through water. "Come on," he said urgently. "Wake up!"

Kennedy's eyes shot open. At first, she thought that she was alone. Heavy silence hung about the adobe colored walls of her bedroom. Slowly, a tingle started in her chest and she knew. Someone was watching her. "Who's there?" She called, her voice a mixture of fear and bravado. She turned her head, saw Eli, and sighed. "Oh, it's you."

"You have to get up," Eli said forcefully.

"What for, Eli? I just laid down. Isaiah had me training all day. All I want to do is sleep."

"You can sleep when you're dead," Eli said, then smirked, flashing his straight, white teeth. "Well, if you're not stuck like me."

Kennedy settled back among her blankets and smiled. If someone had asked her if she believed in ghosts before she found out she was a Potential, she would have laughed. If someone had asked her if she believed that ghosts could have a sense of humor, she would have rolled her eyes. Yet, Eli was kneeling next to her, apparitional proof that all of life was just shadow upon shadow layered into reality. She had met Eli the day after her Watcher contacted her family and explained to all of them that she possessed the capacity to become something truly amazing and heroic. Rather, she had walked right through Eli as she was wandering down the street contemplating her new life.

Eli had been standing in the middle of the sidewalk. Ahead of him was a car accident. An SUV had smashed into a sports car. People were gathered around the wreck, a man was performing CPR on someone lying on the ground. The closer Kennedy approached to the accident, the colder she began to feel. Her skin numbed as though someone was rubbing ice along her flesh. She remembered looking up at Eli and then down at the body, which bore his face. When she walked through him, she knew that he was dead. Eli was the first spirit that she ever saw, but he wasn't the last.

"Seriously," Eli said, wrenching her from her thoughts. He ran a hand through his short, black hair. "You need to get up." Something in the way his hand shook almost imperceptibly and the way that his voice bordered on panic told Kennedy to listen.

"Eli," she said slowly as she sat up again, "what's going on?"

He stood and paced over to her bureau, moving his hand through the brushes and perfume bottles littering its surface. "They're coming," he replied vaguely.

"They?" Kennedy asked. Flinging away the covers, she slipped her feet into her boots and messily tied them. "What kind of 'they' are we talking about here?"

"La bella muerte," he murmured.

"The what now?" Kennedy questioned.

"Death," Eli replied mournfully, gazing back at her with stony, gray eyes.

"For me?" She asked, that feeling of numbness spreading through her again.

"No," Eli shook his head.

"For Isaiah?" She asked, her breath hitching.

"I'm sorry," he answered sincerely. "You can't save him. You have to save yourself."

Kennedy strode across the room and slipped on her jacket over her red spaghetti strap top. "When?" She asked, sliding a stake into her jacket pocket and a knife into her boot.

Eli turned to her and smiled, though his smile didn't reach his eyes. "Now," he whispered. Kennedy heard the splintering crash of the front door blowing off of its hinges. When she ran toward her bedroom door, Eli tried to grab her arm to stop her, but his hand went through it. "Kennedy!" He shouted.

She opened the door and watched as a group of blind monks with daggers swarmed into the room. Isaiah was on his feet, loading a crossbow. He looked back at saw her. His eyes were worried. Kennedy couldn't speak for the fear that paralyzed her. She could see what he couldn't. The shadow had surrounded him, the black, smoky aspect of death. "Kennedy, run!" Isaiah yelled. "Run now."

"Do what he says," Eli whispered into her ear as he stood behind her. She back through him and shut the door, locking it. The hissing twang of a bolt flying through the air accompanied the whine of her window as she yanked open the glass. She heard Isaiah cry out moments later and one of the monks started banging on her door. Kennedy crawled through the window and onto the fire escape. Sneaking out of the London flat she had shared with her Watcher for the last time, she dropped to the ground. Fog hung over the city and its dampness gnawed at her bones. She started running down the alley, her feet sloshing through the puddles of that afternoon's rain. When she reached the front of her building, she saw her Watcher standing on the sidewalk. But he wasn't alone. The shadow was inside of him and, when he opened his eyes to look at her, they were black. Black smoke poured from his mouth. Half of his face had been slashed away and his normally crisp, ironed, white shirt was soaked through with blood. He turned from her and followed the smoke as it curled away into the night.

"It was his time," Eli said, striding up behind her. "He'll be alright."

"But where's he going?" Kennedy asked.

"Someplace I can't go yet," Eli replied and shrugged. "He'll walk the pathways of the dead until he reaches the clearing."

"And you?" Kennedy asked.

Eli's face clouded. "I don't know.

"I could have done something," Kennedy said angrily. "I could have fought. What good am I to the world if I just run?"

"No," Eli stated simply, "you couldn't have done anything. If you would have fought, you would have died."

"How do you know?" Kennedy asked, crossing to the other side of the street. A car honked at her as she cut in front of it and she flipped off the driver.

"I'm dead, remember?" Eli said. "I know these things. Your Watcher was marked. Once the mark of death comes upon you, there's no stopping it."

"What do I do now?" Kennedy asked, wrapping her arms around herself to ward off the chill. Eli wished that he could comfort her. In the years he had spent watching over her, she had become like a daughter to him.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "But I wouldn't stay around here."

Kennedy nodded and started walking briskly down the sidewalk. Eli followed obediently behind her, knowing instinctively where she was going. He followed her everywhere; he had nowhere else to go. She was the only person he had ever encountered who could see him and speak to him. Being around her gave him the chance to pretend like he was still alive, even if he wasn't. "Are you sure that drinking is such a good idea right now?" He asked quietly.

Kennedy sighed. "Probably not," she said, fighting the urge to cry. The woman walking next to her looked over at her with surprise and suspicion. "But I can't think of anything better to do." The woman started walking faster. To her, Kennedy was just some drugged out teenage girl wandering down the street at night talking to herself. She couldn't see Eli; she didn't know what existed when the curtain was pulled away and everything was laid bare. Kennedy had grown accustomed to people thinking that she was insane. In fact, she often wondered if she was.

She had never told anyone about what she could see, not even her Watcher, who she had trusted with her life. She knew that most people couldn't see what she could see, but she didn't know if anyone else in the world could. If she was the only one, those visions of ghosts and death were most likely a product of some abnormality in her brain. If she wasn't, those visions were a peak into the spiritual world. But Kennedy didn't want to know which category she fell under. It was easier to believe that she was sane than to accept that she might not be.

When she arrived at the bar, the Bouncer opened the door for her and smiled. "Hallo again," he said, his thick British accent obscuring his words. Kennedy had found it difficult to understand anyone for the first few weeks she had been in England, until her brain learned to translate things for her. She nodded to him and passed through the door, into the loud, hazy atmosphere. Her feet guided her to the bar, where she ordered a shot of whiskey and sat. Eli stood next to her.

"This isn't smart, Ken," he said. "Those guys didn't just come there for Isaiah."

"How do you know that?" Kennedy asked.

"Isaiah was just some old, British guy," Eli replied sharply. "You're the one who matters."

"I don't matter for shit," Kennedy shot back, lowering her voice when she noticed a couple of other bar patrons staring at her openly. "I'm just a Potential. God knows if I'll ever become a Slayer…probably not."

The bartender sat the glass down in front of her and poured. When he moved away, she picked it up and slammed it back. Without flinching, she swallowed and motioned for another. "Kennedy," Eli said exasperatedly.

"No," she cut him off. "I've been seeing crazy things since I was thirteen years old and they're getting worse. I see death everywhere, Eli," she whispered harshly. "It's everywhere I go, it's in everyone I see. Half of the time I don't even know who's living and who's dead. And on top of all that, I just saw my Watcher die. So leave me alone."

"You know I won't do that," Eli said, moving into the shadow of the corner of the room. "I'll be here when you're ready to go."

When Kennedy emerged from the bar at dawn, she slowly made her way back to her apartment building. She knew that she couldn't go in, but she didn't know where else to go. As she stood, staring up at her former home, a man cleared his throat behind her and spoke.

"Excuse me," he said, his accent not so pronounced. He sounded like he had been living in the United States for some time. "This may sound like a strange question, but does your name happen to be Kennedy, by any chance?"

"Don't trust him," Eli whispered, eyeing the man suspiciously. "He could be working with them."

"Who's asking?" Kennedy replied as she whipped around, studying him closely. He was tall, with brown hair and glasses. Her stake and knife were both within reach. If he approached her, she would use them.

"My name is Rupert Giles," he said, taking a step back as if he sensed her unease. "I'm a Watcher. I believe that means something to you."

"Yes," Kennedy replied, "it does." Her muscles remained tightly wound, tensed for action.

"I'm here because I believe that something, or someone, may be coming after you," Giles explained.

"You're a little late," Kennedy shot back.

"How so?" Giles asked, concern evident in his voice.

"A bunch of blind monks killed my Watcher last night," she replied. "I've been wandering around, didn't know where to go."

"But you got out alright," Giles said more to himself than her. "Thank God for that."

"What do you want?" Kennedy asked.

"I'm the Watcher to the current Slayer, Buffy Summers," Giles explained. "I'm here in England to collect what Potentials I can and bring them back with me to California."

"What for?" Eli asked, though he knew that Giles couldn't hear him. "Ask him what for."

"What for?" Kennedy said, echoing the words that only she could hear.

"Protection," Giles replied gravely. "You're in danger, so is everyone else like you."

"How do I know I'm not in danger from you?" Kennedy asked.

Giles smiled wryly. "You don't, I suppose. But I was rather hoping you would take me on my word."

"What do you think?" Eli asked, glancing over at her.

"I don't see that smoky, shadow thing," Kennedy whispered under her breath, too low for Giles to hear, though Eli heard her clearly. "Okay," she said louder. "I'll take you on your word. But if you try anything, I _will_ kill you."

"I'm sure," Giles replied dryly. "Come," he said, extending his hand. "We need to get moving."

…………………………………………..

Faith slid a quarter into the pay phone and picked up the receiver. A blank dial tone greeted her ears and she punched in the all-too-familiar number. A few rings later, someone picked up the phone. "Hey, fang," she said.

"Faith," he replied evenly. She knew that he hated that nickname.

"Are you sure I have to do this?" Faith asked. "I mean, isn't there something else I could be doing?"

"No," Angel replied. "We've been through this, Faith. They're going to need you up there."

"I'm not sure Buffy's gonna see it that way, big guy," Faith said, irritation bordering her voice. "And I don't really want to get the shit beat out of me just for showing up."

"She won't attack you," Angel said, rolling his eyes. Faith could practically hear it over the phone.

"How do you know?"

"Because she's different and you're different and honestly, who holds a grudge for that long anyway?" Angel replied.

"Those Summers women are stubborn," Faith mumbled under her breath. "Okay," she said. "But if she starts hitting me, I'm leaving."

"No, you're not," Angel replied stonily. "You have to do this, Faith. Redemption doesn't come easily."

"I know, I know," Faith shot back.

"Listen, I would've called Giles to tell him you were coming, but I haven't been able to get a hold of him," Angel said.

"Well, what about the others? Why can't we call them?" Faith asked.

"I don't want to give them enough time to come up with excuses for why you shouldn't come," Angel said. "They won't be happy to see you and they won't particularly want to include you, but you need to be there. Something big is coming, something evil. They can't fight it alone. Two Slayers are better than one."

Faith sighed and rested her head against the plastic wall of the booth. "Okay," she said finally.

"Where are you anyway?" Angel asked.

"At the Sunnydale bus depot," Faith replied. Angel chuckled. "I just wanted to check one more time to make sure you still thought this was a good idea."

"You know," Angel taunted, "if I didn't know better, I'd say you were afraid."

Faith gritted her teeth. Angel knew which buttons to hit. "I'm not afraid, especially not of little-miss-princess."

"Prove it," Angel shot back.

"Fine," Faith said angrily. "I will."

"Good," Angel returned, his voice losing its edge. "And check in every once in a while, would you?"

"Sure," Faith said, her anger dissipating as she smiled into the receiver. It was nice to have someone who cared about her. Hanging up the phone, she slung her duffel bag over her shoulder and exited the phone booth. "Home sweet Hell," she muttered as she lit up a cigarette and started walking.


	2. Among the Discontented

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Two: Among the Discontent:

"Hey, B, lookin' good," Faith murmured as she stood on the sidewalk outside of the Summers' residence, gazing up at the familiar house with a hollow ache curling in her stomach. "Hey, B, nice to see you again," she continued. She took a step forward, reluctantly, her feet fighting against her every move. "Hey, B, I'm sorry." She stopped and smirked sadly. "Yeah, like she'll ever let me say that to her."

Sighing, Faith closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. Had she not been so distracted by the thoughts tumbling chaotically through her mind, she might have heard the front door slip open and quietly closed. She might have heard the feet padding silently through the dewy grass. But she didn't. When she opened her eyes again, the golden haired Slayer was standing directly in front of her, her eyes a study in conflict. "Hey, B," Faith started, more startled that Buffy had suddenly appeared in front of her than anything else, but the older girl didn't let her finish.

The punch came out of nowhere, connecting solidly with her jaw. Faith dropped to the ground like a stone, her bag flying off of her shoulder and thumping a few feet away from her. "Okay, ow," she said, rubbing her jaw line, where a bruise was steadily forming. "I deserved that."

"Oh, you deserve a lot more than that," Buffy hissed, anger boiling just underneath of the surface of her words. Faith had a flash back to that night on the roof when Buffy buried a knife in her gut. "What are you doing here?"

"Slayer reunion," Faith replied jokingly to cover the shudder of anxiety that ran through her voice, "didn't you hear? We're supposed to have one every year. It's in the handbook."

"Shut up!" Buffy yelled, throwing her arms up in frustration. "God, can't you take anything seriously?"

"Sure, B," Faith muttered quietly. Slowly rising to her feet, she raised her hands defensively. "I'm not here to start anything, okay?"

"You just being here starts something," Buffy muttered in return. Faith narrowed her eyes at that comment, but let it slipped past. "What are you doing here?" Buffy asked again, this time more tiredly than angrily.

"Angel sent me up here," Faith answered. Before Buffy could interrupt, she rushed on. "Look, I know you don't want me here. No one wants me here. Hell, I don't even want me here. But I'm here anyway. I would much rather be back down in L.A."

"In jail, you mean?" Buffy shot back.

Faith chuckled a little and rubbed the back of her neck. "Well, not really."

"What?" The blonde Slayer demanded, taking a step forward.

Faith took two steps back. "I'm not exactly in jail anymore, as you can see. I sorta broke out."

"Why?" Buffy practically growled.

"Okay, get out of Terminator mode there B, you don't have to annihilate me. I'm not here to hurt anyone. Just to help," Faith said, sighing in frustration. "I broke out of jail because the L.A. crew needed me for something big."

"What happened in L.A?" Buffy asked, shifting from angry to worried.

"It's over with now," Faith said, avoiding her question. She didn't know how much Buffy knew about the reemergence of Angelus and she didn't want to be the one to have to explain it all. "I handled it."

"I'm sure you did," Buffy said sarcastically. "You're just so good at handling things. Who'd you kill this time?"

"Whatever," Faith ground out between clenched teeth. It wasn't just Angel that knew all of her buttons. "Angel said that something big is coming here. He said that I need to be here. And," she said, holding up her hand when Buffy opened her mouth to speak, "before you tell me that you can handle this all by your lonesome and that I should go back home, you need to know that I'm not going anywhere, even if you tell me to scram. I'm staying in Sunnydale. So I can either help with you knowing that I'm helping, or I can help without you even knowing that I'm there."

"You know, Faith," Buffy said, crossing her arms over her chest, "I think it would be better for everyone if no one even knew that you were here. Option two sounds great to me. Be invisible girl and stay out of my way." When Buffy had looked out of her living room window and seen the former rogue Slayer standing on her front lawn, a tumult of emotions had passed through her. She was angry; she would always be angry. She was sad because Faith always brought back memories that she rather wished would stay in the dusty recesses of her mind. But she was also happy. Somewhere in her heart, she was glad that Faith was back, though she couldn't allow the dark haired girl to know that. She couldn't trust her with that. Faith may have proven herself to Angel, but she had yet to prove herself to Buffy.

The older Slayer tried to ignore the crest fallen look on Faith's face when the words passed through her. "Okay," Faith said, slowly moving over to her bag and picking it up. "Fine, I'll disappear. You won't even know I'm around, B. But I'll still be here. And if you want to find me, I think you know where I'll be."

"Don't worry, F," Buffy spat out, unable to control the words coming from her mouth. "I can't really imagine any reason in the world why I'd want to find _you._"

Faith laughed humorlessly. She gazed at Buffy for a moment, taking in the violent beauty of the older Slayer, before turning and walking back into the gray dawn. Buffy watched her go, knowing that she headed toward the Sunnydale Motor Lodge, torn between calling out to her and spitting in her general direction. "God, Faith," she murmured. "Why did you have to come back?" Her life was crazy enough with the threat of the First Evil looming over her, appearing to her and her friends as visions of dead people. Spike was missing, Giles was overseas somewhere. She didn't need to add Faith and all that the dark haired girl symbolized into the mix as well. Buffy watched her walk away until she couldn't see her anymore. Then she turned and went back into the house. Dawn was already up, just stumbling down the stairs, her eyes still glazed with sleep.

"What were you doing out front?" She asked, stifling a yawn.

"Nothing," Buffy replied, though the sadness in her voice belied her words.

"Uh huh," Dawn said, rolling her eyes. "Whatever, don't tell me."

"I'm not hiding anything from you," Buffy lied.

"I know you, Buffy, or did you forget? We're sisters. I can see right through you," Dawn teased, though Buffy just looked uncomfortable. "You want me to pour you some cereal?"

"Sure," Buffy said, glad for the change of subject. "Thanks."

Dawn nodded and wandered into the kitchen. Buffy watched her. She was supposed to be Dawn's guardian, but sometimes she wondered if it wasn't the other way around. "I don't know why you think you can take care of her," a voice said from behind her. "You're not good at that sort of thing." Buffy turned around and saw her mother standing there. But she knew that it wasn't her mother. It was the First.

"Go away," she muttered.

"Honey," Joyce said, moving closer. For a moment, Buffy closed her eyes and let the voice wash over her. When she opened her eyes again, they were stone.

"I said go away," she spoke unequivocally.

"You can't do this all by yourself," Joyce said. "Really, now. She should be with people who love her and can care about her."

"I love her," Buffy insisted quietly. "I can take care of her."

"No, honey," Joyce said sadly, "you'll just get her killed."

"Hey, Buff," Dawn said reemerging from the kitchen. The vision disappeared as soon as she opened the door.

"Yeah?" Buffy asked, relieved that Dawn hadn't seen that thing impersonating their mother again.

"You coming or what? Sugary goodness awaits. You don't want it to get soggy."

………………………………

Kennedy glanced at Giles' outstretched hand knowing that this was a defining moment in her life, not just because Giles had presented to her the opportunity to begin again, but because if she reached out and touched his hand and it was real, so was he. She had been seeing visions of death and spirits for so long that she was starting to have difficulty identifying who was real and who was not. Tentatively, she extended her hand and slipped it into Giles' palm. His skin was warm and he smiled. She unconsciously exhaled the breath she had been holding and smiled back. "Okay, Mr. Giles," she said, "I'll go with you."

"Please," he said, "just call me Giles. Every one else does. Mr. Giles sounds too formal for me now." He wanted to say now that he was no longer employed, but he didn't feel like explaining his situation to the young girl in front of him.

"Okay," Kennedy agreed. She released his hand as they started walking down the sidewalk. Eli trailed behind them, eyeing the British man suspiciously.

"Have you ever heard of this guy before?" Eli asked and Kennedy nodded slightly. Her Watcher had told her many stories of the previous Slayers, especially of Buffy and her Watcher, Giles. They were legends among certain Council members, black sheep among others. Isaiah had admired Buffy's determination to embrace her destiny in her own way. While the Council heads found that determination tantamount to treason, Isaiah viewed it as the evolving nature of the calling. What had been global patriarchy for centuries was slowly shifting, tilting, and spinning in a different way. It no longer made sense that the Slayer would blindly follow the edicts of her, generally, male guardian.

As a way of answering Eli's question without appearing insane, Kennedy said, "You know, I've heard of you before."

"Yes?" Giles asked, glancing back at her. He walked slightly ahead, not because his stride carried him faster, but to prove to her that he meant no threat. Though she was with him, he knew that her instincts were telling her to be cautious. Her Watcher was dead and someone was trying to kill her.

"My Watcher told me about you and your Slayer," she replied. "He liked to tell me stories."

"Oh," Giles said stiffly. "And what kind of stories did he tell you about me?"

"Don't worry," Kennedy said, rolling her eyes. "He was on your side."

Giles smiled a little. The Council was dichotomized between those who favored his type of training, in which the Slayer was allowed those things she had previously been denied – family, friends, love – and those who fiercely opposed what they believed to be a loosening of the moral code. Slayers were meant to be alone in their view and the struggles that both Buffy Summers and Faith Lehane had faced were all due to ill management on the part of their Watchers. "Politics is awfully dreadful," Giles said. "It never should have become about sides. All I wanted was the best for my Slayer."

"I'm sure," Kennedy agreed.

"Yeah, right," Eli snickered. "If so, why has she died twice?" Eli had heard all of the stories too.

Kennedy shot him a glare and shook her head. Giles caught the end of her movement and gazed at her a little longer than she would have liked. "So," she said, turning the attention from herself, "where are we going?"

"I've rented a hotel room," Giles said.

"He does know you're gay, right?" Eli joked.

Kennedy wanted to reach back and jab him in the ribs, but she knew that if she did, her elbow would pass right through him. "A hotel room?" She asked.

"Like I said, I've been collecting Potentials. I have three others with me, you are the fourth."

"That's all?" Kennedy asked.

"That's all I've been able to locate in England," Giles corrected. "I know that there are more out there, but I don't have time for a trip around the world."

"Oh," Kennedy replied sheepishly. "Right."

"Tomorrow we leave England for California. In a short time, you'll be meeting Buffy and the others."

Kennedy had to admit that the prospect of meeting the Slayer was exciting. She wanted to know what the older girl was like. Though she understood what being a Slayer entailed, she desperately wanted the opportunity herself. To live a life of unfulfilled potential was the worst thing she could think of, especially after spending so many years in training with the hope that it wouldn't all be for naught. She couldn't imagine the disappointment inherent in being passed over again and again.

Eli smiled, knowing what she was thinking. He could see the excitement gleaming in her eyes. "California," he said, "land of sunshine, bottle blondes, and bikinis."

"Can't say that's a disappointing prospect," Kennedy grinned salaciously.

"What's that?" Giles asked, looking back at her.

She gazed at him confusedly for a moment before replying, rather haltingly, "Meeting Buffy. Can't say that's a disappointing prospect."

"Of course," Giles agreed. Something about the dark haired girl bothered him. Despite the gravity of their situation, he felt as though she was only half listening to him. Perhaps it was because she was still a teenager, eighteen if his memory served him. Buffy had often zoned out, as she liked to say, on him while he was discussing something of the utmost importance. But he didn't quite believe that was the case. He would have thought that she was listening to someone else, if the sidewalk behind them hadn't been clear of any living soul.

"How safe is it to leave a bunch of Potentials Slayers in a motel room, anyway?" Kennedy suddenly asked, her training reminding her that if someone was trying to kill her, and possibly others like her, leaving those girls alone in the middle of the night in a strange city might not be the best of strategies.

"I'll admit, it has its dangers," Giles said. "But I know some magics and I've put a mystical barrier around the room. Anything with an evil intention can't enter it."

"Mystical barrier?" Kennedy asked.

"I take it your Watcher didn't teach you much about the magical realm," Giles commented.

"No," she said defensively, as though Giles had been attacking her Watcher's style of training. "We had more important things to do." Kennedy didn't care much about magic. She was a Potential Slayer, not a potential witch. A Slayer relied on her instincts and on her body. Kennedy had learned to hone both. She moved fluidly, her muscles primed for action. Unconsciously, her eyes were always searching. She was always listening.

"At any rate," Giles continued, oblivious to his unintended slight, "I haven't left them alone for long. They all know too well the dangers of leaving the room, as you are now aware. Most of them have witnessed the deaths of their Watchers too."

"So someone is going around killing Potentials and Watchers?" Kennedy asked. "Why?"

"Isn't it obvious?" Eli said. "To destroy the line." His blue eyes glimmered fearfully at the prospect.

"To destroy the line of Slayers," Giles answered grimly, "and leave the world without a champion."


	3. Turning and Turning

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Notes: One of Kennedy's lines is borrowed from an Edgar Allen Poe poem. Kudos to you if you know which one.

Chapter Three: Turning and Turning:

Kennedy knew that she was dreaming; there was always something slightly wrong in dreams that distinguished them from reality, despite however real they felt. She had gone to sleep next to one of the Potentials Giles had found, a girl named Molly, and had awoken to a room overwhelmed with smoke and fire. She was no longer in the hotel, but in a ruined building. The walls were blackened and chunks of debris littered the floor. The smoke crept down into her lungs, choking her, and burning its way through her body. She started coughing and she couldn't stop. She couldn't see anything through the dense haze, but she smelled blood. It was everywhere.

She struggled to her feet and stumbled over the bricks and stone that had once been the ceiling and walls of the building. When her foot connected with something soft, she glanced down and saw a mangled body lying at her feet. Gasping, she stepped back. That was when she saw them, the bodies, dozens of them, littering the floor, spilling forth blood at an alarming rate. The blood swirled toward her, as though she was the center of the gyre around which everything rotated. "Oh my God," she murmured. The blood crept up to her foot, kissing the toes of her boots. It spread around her, splashing playfully like rainwater falling down a drain. She wanted to vomit, but something else caught her attention. A low scratching sound emerged. The sound was like of someone dragging something. She spun around, but couldn't see anything through the smoke.

Shadows started to move around her, closing in on her. She couldn't breathe. The fire was coming closer. She could feel its heat pressing against her cheek the violent caress of a passionate lover. Then she saw him. She spun and found herself inches from the disfigured face of a blind, brown robed monk. He held a gleaming knife in his hand. When he smiled at her, through ragged lips, his teeth were broken and chipped, and blood oozed down his chin. The moment before the knife plunged into her abdomen, she awoke with a startled gasp.

Complete darkness surrounded her. The curtains were drawn across the windows. She lay in bed, feeling the gentle motion of the girl next to her breathing softly. Staring up at the black ceiling, she tried to calm her thundering heart. A sheen of sweat covered her skin. Throwing off the covers, she stumbled through the darkness to the bathroom. Closing the door quietly behind her, she flipped on the light. The harshness of it pained her eyes and she allowed them to flutter closed as she gripped the edge of the ceramic sink and sighed. "You're okay," she murmured reassuringly to herself. "You were just dreaming." Taking a deep breath, she calmed and opened her eyes.

When she opened them, she was gazing into the mirror above the sink. Reflected at her in the glass was a man. His skin was charred, blackened, and his head lolled to one side as though his neck had been broken. The flesh around his eyes had been burned away and, when he opened them, blood started trickling down his face. Kennedy suppressed a scream and moved away from the mirror, but when she turned, she still saw him. His eyes looked directly into her, as though he was reading the very contents of her soul. She moved away until her back hit the wall and stopped. Then the man started moving. His feet scratched against the floor and his eyes, his obscenely large, unblinking eyes, held her transfixed. He reached out one charred and mangled hand to touch her and she dropped to the floor, covering her head with her arms.

The scratching sound stopped, but she dared not look up. Trembling, she held herself, her heart pounding in her ears again. After several long moments of silence, she found the courage to open her eyes. Eli was kneeling in front of her. "You okay?" He asked.

"Did you see him?" Kennedy whispered.

"See who?" He asked.

"That man. He was just in here. He came up to me," she replied fearfully. "I swear, he was standing there only a few seconds ago."

"I'm sorry," Eli shook his head. "I didn't see him. I felt how scared you were though."

Kennedy exhaled a ragged breath and leaned her head back against the wall, hugging her knees. "I can't take this anymore," she murmured.

Eli sat down next to her, mimicking her position. "What did he look like?"

"I don't know," Kennedy said, "he was burned."

He cringed. "He came up to you?" He asked.

"Yeah," Kennedy nodded. "I don't understand it, Eli. It used to be that I would just see them. Some of them I could talk to, like you. But others, they didn't seem to notice that I was there. But they all do now. They see me, Eli. They see right through me. It's like every inch of me is exposed to them." She shuddered. "I hate the way that feels."

"I wish I knew what to say," Eli whispered. "There must be someway to make this stop. Maybe you should tell someone."

"Yeah," Kennedy scoffed. "That conversation would go well." They sat in companionable silence while the night ticked away. She envied the girls sleeping out in the room, but knew that she wouldn't be able to close her eyes again, not with remnants of her dream still lingering in her mind. "Eli," she murmured, "what if all we are and all we'll ever be is just a dream within a dream?"

"Then none of this is real and you don't have to worry about a thing," Eli replied. "That should make you feel a little better."

"I guess I'm living in a nightmare," she commented.

"Oh, come on," he said, "it's not all that bad." He wanted to nudge her shoulder, but he couldn't.

"I don't know," Kennedy said contemplatively, "my best friend is a ghost, so what does that tell you?"

"I'm your best friend, huh?" Eli joked, smiling smugly. "If I was alive, I'd probably be arrested for that." He had been thirty when he died, a thirty year old successful attorney with more money than he could count, a hot girlfriend, and the good luck of possessing a handsome face.

"Good thing you're dead," Kennedy shot back. Raising a finger to her lips, she looked over at Eli. She could hear footsteps outside of the bathroom door. A soft knock greeted her ears and Giles' voice floated thinly through the door.

"Kennedy?" He asked. "Are you alright?"

"Better go back out there," Eli said.

"I'm so tired of all of this," Kennedy replied wearily, as she rose to her feet. "I hate pretending."

"So stop," Eli urged.

"I'm afraid to," she admitted quietly. Moving over to the door, she swung it open. "I'm fine," she whispered so as not to wake the other girls. "Just needed a drink of water."

"Okay," Giles said doubtfully. "Kennedy," he said as she started to move passed him. "If there's anything you want to talk about, I am available."

She looked up at him and the sincerity in his eyes nearly won her over. For just a moment, she decided to tell him. The words were already forming on her lips, but when she looked over his shoulder into the bathroom, she saw the burned man staring at her again, his bloody, wide eyes laughing at her. "I'm fine," she said weakly, turning from him and the ghostly vision in the bathroom. But Giles had seen the fear in her eyes.

The British man nodded and watched her slip back into bed. He looked back into the empty bathroom and sighed. Kennedy was hiding something.

…………………………

Faith jammed the contents of her duffel bag into a bureau drawer and flipped on the television to ward off the memories crowding her mind. She had spent much of her life in motels of the same class as the Sunnydale Motor Lodge, but none held so much grief and remorse for her as the one in which she currently sat. Her old room had been available, but Faith didn't want to confront those ghosts. Perhaps one day she would, but the idea of walking across that particular threshold nauseated her. Instead, she was residing across the parking lot. The television didn't receive many channels and, after surfing through her options, she settled on a black and white movie, which seemed to be her preferred choice in Sunnydale.

The day the police came asking about Alan Finch, she had told them that she and her fellow Slayer had spent the evening watching some old black and white movie. Alan Finch – that simple name always blindsided her. "God I could use a drink," she muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose to quell the headache that always seemed to accompany deep thinking. She thought briefly of going to the Bronze, but the last thing she wanted was to run into Buffy again. Her hand drifted down to the black bruise on her jaw, where the older girl had struck her. Pain and pleasure had always been her experience with Buffy. Once they had found their rhythm, they were unstoppable, or could have been. She remembered her dance with Buffy as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. In those few, precious moments, moving to the music with the other girl just within reach, she had sworn that she saw something hungry, something passionate in Buffy's eyes.

That look had disappeared the moment she shoved the stake accidentally into Alan Finch's chest. Faith had been attracted to the older Slayer from the first moment she saw her. Her blonde hair, expressive eyes, cute smile, and rock hard body all turned Faith's thoughts to nights of hushed moans and erotic whispers. Those things still did. The former rogue knew it was better that she had never acted on her desire for her comrade. Buffy had never displayed that short lived passion for her again. For all Faith knew, she had seen what she wanted to see and nothing more. Now that she was older, she could appreciate her feelings for Buffy for what they really were. She didn't want some fumbled attempt at sex in a back alley. She wanted the whole package – the one that she knew she would never get.

Sighing, she closed her eyes and tried to stop thinking about the blonde hair that tormented her dreams. As she started to doze off to sleep, a knock came at her door. Groaning, Faith rubbed the sleep from her eyes and walked over to the door. When she opened it, she was surprised to see the object of her thoughts standing there. Buffy had her arms wrapped around her waist, a sheepish, yet determined look on her face. "B," Faith stated, unconsciously rubbing her bruised jaw. "Nice to see ya."

"Really?" Buffy asked, a smile tugging at her lips. "Because a few hours ago I was beating on you. Can't be too nice to see me."

"Well, you didn't beat _on_ me," Faith said, "so much as just hit me. There is a difference."

"Right," Buffy said, glancing down at her sneakers. "Can I come in for a minute?"

"I don't know," Faith replied warily. "Are you gonna hit me again?"

"No," Buffy shook her head vehemently. "I promise."

"Okay," Faith said, opening the door wider. "Come on in."

"Well, this place hasn't changed," Buffy said nervously.

Faith glanced over at the other Slayer as she closed the door. "You know, not that I ain't glad to see ya or anything, but what are you doin' here? Not too long ago you were yelling at me."

"I know," Buffy said. "And I came to apologize."

"Excuse me?" Faith asked, her eyebrows reaching her hairline.

"I over reacted," Buffy admitted. "I had time to think about what you said and maybe you're right. Maybe we do need your help."

"Seriously?" Faith asked. "I'm dreaming right now, right?"

"No," Buffy chuckled. "I'm serious."

"Well," Faith replied, not sure how to respond. "Glad to hear it. It's nice to know I didn't come all the way up here for nothing."

"Not for nothing," Buffy said, taking a cautious step closer.

"Are you okay, B?" Faith asked. "You seem a little weird."

"I'm fine," Buffy said quickly. "Just nervous."

"About what?" Faith asked. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

"I know that," Buffy said, rolling her eyes. "I'm nervous being around you for another reason."

"Care to share?" Faith asked, leaning back against the bureau.

Buffy started pacing. Faith smiled, but didn't say anything. She found the blonde girl's anxiety endearing. "Do you know why I reacted to you the way I did?" She finally asked.

"Because you still think I'm evil?" Faith guessed.

"No," Buffy said. "You make me feel these things, Faith, that I don't want to feel."

"What do you mean?" Faith asked, her heart slowing.

Buffy moved closer. "You make me feel things I keep trying to deny. But I can't. I can't deny them anymore." The older girl looked up at Faith with tears in her eyes. "I don't want to."

"Buffy," Faith started, but stopped when she saw that hungry look in Buffy's eyes again. A flutter started in her stomach and swept up into her throat. Even if she had tried to speak at that moment, she didn't think that she could.

"Kiss me, Faith," Buffy said suddenly, tilting her head toward the dark haired girl as she moved within inches of her reach. "Kiss me."

Faith licked her lips and leaned closer. Buffy closed her eyes. She had always imagined what Buffy would taste like. Her eyes drifted shut, but where her lips should have met the other Slayer's she felt nothing but air. Opening her eyes, stifled a shocked gasp when she realized that she had stepped right through Buffy. "What the hell?" She asked, whirling around to face the other girl.

Buffy turned to her with a smirk on her face and a taunt in her eyes. "Sorry, Faith, but I'm not quite who you think I am."

"Well who the fuck are you?" Faith demanded angrily, her Slayer senses on edge.

"I'm the First Evil," Buffy said, extending her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you." She laughed at the horror struck look on Faith's face and dropped her hand. "Not much for the shaking, I get it, it's cool. I've always wanted to meet you. Now I got my chance. I must say," she said, her eyes gazing appreciatively at Faith's body, "you don't disappoint."

"Get out of here," Faith growled. "Now!"

"Okay," the First said, throwing up its hands defensively. "But Faith," it said, smiling through Buffy's lips, "now I know your secret."


	4. Things Fall Apart

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Four: Things Fall Apart:

_Now I know your secret._ Those words echoed through the chambers of Faith's mind as she stalked the night. _Now I know your secret._ She couldn't believe that she had fallen right into the First's hands. Part of her had known that Buffy was acting weird. But she had wanted so badly to believe that the blonde Slayer felt something for her too that she ignored her instincts. _Now I know your secret._ Faith shuddered to think what the First might do with that knowledge. Would it tell Buffy? She suffered alone in her desperation. The night seemed so peaceful. The moon, the guardian all those that walked in shadow, smiled lazily down on her.

Sunnydale hadn't changed since she last walked its streets. The Slayer inside of her writhed and twisted, ready to explode in a flurry of violence. She could feel evil everywhere. _Now I know your secret._ Faith started running. The wind whipped at her, causing her eyes to water. She blinked away the tears and ran harder. Her legs pumped, the muscles begging for her to stop. How could she have been so stupid? How could she have fallen into its trap? Growling low in her throat, she finally slowed to a stop. Panting, she glanced around to take in her surroundings. She was at the bus depot.

Chuckling to herself, she looked down at the street. Unconsciously, her feet had brought her to the one place where she could fix the mess her life had become. If she boarded a bus now and left, she would never know if the First had revealed her secret to Buffy. She would never have to face the blonde Slayer still feeling the tingles of an almost, ghostly kiss. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment and dreamed of leaving. Back in Los Angeles, her life had made sense. Even in prison, her life had made sense. She was doing something. Repenting, fighting for redemption. Here in Sunnydale, nothing made sense anymore. She didn't know why she was here. Angel had only told her that she was needed. So she came. Just like that, she came. Just on the off chance that maybe she could help, that maybe she could take some of the burden off of the older girl's shoulders. But she couldn't leave, not with the First lingering around, no matter how badly her heart ached to board one of those buses and run.

A scream pierced through the night and Faith's eyes flashed open. Her senses alert, she surveyed the bus depot. The dim, sickly light of the street lamps illuminated the buses as they sat parked in a line, waiting for morning. But one bus was still sitting at the terminal. "It must have just dropped someone off," Faith reasoned as she sprinted toward it. "Meals on wheels for vampires." Climbing the security fence, she dropped to the other side. As she rounded the corner of the building, she smacked into someone running from the opposite direction.

"Hey now," Faith said, steadying the girl to keep her from falling. "What's wrong?"

The girl looked up at her with wide, fearful green eyes. "They're after me," she replied.

"Who's after you?" Faith asked. When the girl's eyes widened impossibly more, Faith knew that her pursuers were standing directly behind her. "They're behind me, aren't they?" She commented dryly. The girl nodded. Turning, Faith saw a half dozen brown robed, blind monks standing behind her. They each held a knife. "What's your name, kid?" She asked.

"Kate," the shorter, brown haired girl replied.

"Kate," Faith repeated, "why don't you wait over there by the fence?"

"What are you gonna do?" She asked as the Bringers started circling predatorily.

"Fight," Faith said grimly. Lashing out with her booted foot, she connected with the hand of one of the monks. His knife flew out of his grasp, but Faith caught it with a deft flick of her wrist. "Thanks," she said, grinning wildly.

Kate backed up, shocked and amazed to see how well the dark haired woman fought. The Bringers charged at her, but she held them all at bay, simultaneously protecting the younger girl, while slashing death blows with the knife. "Who is she?" Kate murmured.

Faith grimaced as a spray of blood splashed across her cheek. It was warm and sticky as it dribbled down her skin. The sensation sickened her, but she never stopped fighting. Three of the monks were dead, only three remained standing. Grabbing one of them by the arm, she twisted until she heard the bones snap. The monk fell to his knees and Faith slashed the blade across his throat. When she looked up, the other two men were running away. "Damn straight," she muttered, cleaning the knife on her pants and shoving it down the side of her boot. Wiping the blood from her cheek, she looked back at the girl standing nervously, but curiously by the fence.

"I'm Faith," she said.

"Holy shit!" Kate exclaimed, and then clamped a hand over her mouth. Sheepishly, she grinned. "Sorry."

Faith chuckled. "I ain't gonna yell at you for cussing, kiddo. I do it all the time."

"You're the Slayer," Kate said in awe. "Or, well, one of them."

The girl's eyes darkened for a moment and Faith sighed. "The bad one, you mean," she supplied. "How do you know about Slayers anyway?"

"Not the bad one," Kate said a little too quickly. "Just the…spirited one."

"Look," Faith responded, running a hand through her long, dark hair, "it's okay. I get that a lot. But I'm not evil anymore, okay? I'm good now. I just want to help."

"I know," the other girl replied and Faith could see sincerity shining in her eyes. "If you were evil, you wouldn't have killed those guys. You would have helped them."

"Why were they after you?" Faith asked. The girl still hadn't explained how she knew about Slayers. Though her instincts warned her to be suspicious, there was something childishly endearing about the brown haired girl standing in front of her with a red knit cap pulled low over her forehead.

"You don't know?" She asked confusedly.

"No," Faith shook her head angrily. "I'm a little out of the loop here. Care to explain?"

"Okay," Kate said, shoving her hands in her jeans pockets. "Well, I don't know too much about all of this either, just what my Watcher told me."

"And where is your Watcher?" Faith asked, glancing around. The bus depot was dark and silent. "How long have you been here?"

"A few hours," Kate said, trying to process Faith's flurry of questions. "The bus dropped me off a couple of hours ago and I've been waiting."

"For what?" Faith asked.

"I don't know," Kate shrugged. "My Watcher told me to come here. Said that I needed to find the Slayer, that she would protect me. Thing is, I don't have any money. I don't even have any luggage. Just me. And I'm in a totally new town that's known for being a center of demonic activity."

"I get it," Faith reasoned, "you figured hanging out here for a while would be safer than wandering around the streets at night."

"Yeah," Kate stated, smiling lopsidedly. "I was gonna stay until morning and then try to find Buffy's house."

"We should move," Faith said distractedly, her Slayer senses warning her that the two monks who had run off into the night might come back.

"You think I'm still in danger?" Kate asked, her mouth drying at the prospect of having to run for her life again.

"Kid," Faith said, grabbing her by the arm, "you're on the Hellmouth now. You're always in danger here." Faith helped the younger girl climb over the security fence and then dropped down on the other side next to her. "So keep talking," she instructed as she scanned the road and trees around them. They started walking.

"Like I said, I'm a Potential Slayer," Kate explained. "According to my Watcher, someone has been murdering Potentials."

"Murdering them?" Faith asked confusedly. A feeling of dread invaded her stomach.

"Yeah," Kate replied. "He was worried that I might be a target, so he told me to come to Sunnydale."

"He just sent you off on your own?" Faith asked, both frustrated and angered by the lack of foresight the Watcher's Council always seemed to have.

"I'm not some defenseless, little girl," Kate argued. "I know how to fight. I've been training since I was eight."

"Okay," Faith nodded placatingly, "I didn't mean any offense."

"Sorry," Kate said, exhaling deeply. "My Watcher is in England right now trying to find out what the Council knows about all of this. Once he has some useful information, he's going to come here and find me."

"Sounds like a plan," Faith said. "But I don't think I was the Slayer you were supposed to find."

"No, I was supposed to find Buffy Summers," Kate agreed. "I don't think Tony would be too happy that I'm talking to you."

"Well, Tony isn't here," Faith said and smiled over at her. "But don't worry, kiddo, I'll get you to the right place."

"So you're working with Buffy then?" Kate asked.

Faith sighed deeply. _Now I know your secret._ "Not exactly."

………………………………….

Flying had never been one of Kennedy's favorite activities. When she was in first class, or on a private jet, it was a different matter. Flying coach on an international flight while sitting next to a girl who was babbling incoherently in an attempt to block from her mind the fact that they were thousands of feet in the air was truly horrific. However, that was the least of Kennedy's problems. About six hours into the flight, she had glanced over her shoulder and seen the smoky, black visage of death lingering over an elderly man two rows behind her. Closing her eyes, she rested her head on the back of the seat and gritted her teeth. "Annabelle?" She said.

"Yeah?" The other girl replied, pausing mid-sentence.

"Shut up," Kennedy instructed.

"Sorry," the Potential muttered sheepishly.

"It's okay," Kennedy breathed out slowly. "I'm just a little tense. I didn't mean to snap at you."

"No," Annabelle said, glancing down at her hands to restrain herself from looking out of the window at the clouds below them, a place where clouds definitely were not supposed to be. "I've been talking your ear off this whole time."

"Why don't you just try to sleep?" Kennedy suggested.

"Okay," Annabelle agreed. "I can give that a shot." Kennedy reached over and pulled down the blind.

"That might help," she said, smiling supportively as the other girl closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. She fell asleep surprisingly fast, leaving Kennedy to relish the silence alone.

"I thought she'd never stop," Eli said, standing next to her in the aisle. Kennedy jumped when she heard his voice.

"What are you doing here?" She whispered lowly.

"You see that guy back there?" Eli asked, nodding toward the elderly gentleman that Kennedy was trying desperately to ignore.

"Yeah," she mumbled.

"He's going to die," Eli stated.

"I know," Kennedy replied.

"Maybe you should tell someone," he suggested.

"Sure, that would go over well," Kennedy grumbled. "Excuse me, flight attendant, see that guy back there. Yeah, him. He's gonna die soon. Just thought you should know. Are you kidding?" She asked quietly, but harshly. "I'd be locked up as soon as the plane landed."

"One day you're going to have to deal with this," Eli said.

"Today is not that day."

"Fine," he replied. The elderly man started wheezing. "I think he's having a heart attack," Eli commented nonchalantly.

The light dinged for the stewardess, who came rushing down the aisle. Kennedy tried to block out the commotion. The man had slumped over in his seat. Someone called for a doctor. Two passengers laid him out on the floor as a man came over and started performing CPR. The noise stopped and Kennedy knew that he was dead. Looking over her shoulder, she saw the man's ghost standing over his own body, staring down at it mournfully. The smoke crept up into his nostrils and started to lead him away. Enveloping him, both it and he disappeared.

"I can't wait until we land," Kennedy grumbled. They moved the body, getting it out of sight until the plane landed. New York was only two hours away.

"Well, you're just going to get on another plane," Eli said.

"Shut up, Eli," Kennedy whispered, looking away. When she glanced back, he was gone. Sighing, she gazed up at the ceiling. She was exhausted. Whenever she closed her eyes, horrifying nightmares of death and blood haunted her. Dark circles had formed under her eyes. She looked hollow.

Two hours later, the plane landed in New York, which had once been home for Kennedy. But they couldn't stay long enough for her to call her parents to let them know she was there. She hadn't spoken to them in a few months anyway, another missed call wouldn't matter. New York wasn't home anymore. She didn't know where home was. Home had been wherever she and Isaiah went. But now that Isaiah was dead, she was lost. Drifting through the world, Kennedy no longer knew her place. She was a Potential Slayer, but what did that mean? She could spend her entire life just short of achieving her destiny.

They boarded another plane bound for California. When they landed, no one felt like talking. They had been in the air so long that the ground seemed foreign to them. Even Annabelle was quiet, for which Kennedy was grateful. They arrived at the airport, but no one greeted them. Giles hadn't had time to contact the Slayer to tell her of their arrival. He called a cab and they drove into Sunnydale, the girls practically falling asleep on each other. When they finally reached the house where they would be staying, Kennedy wanted nothing more than to curl up in a corner somewhere and sleep for a week, nightmares or no. "Come on," Giles said after he had paid the cab fare. "Let's get you all settled in." They walked up to the door and he knocked.

A few seconds passed before it swung open. The blonde Slayer stood there, smiling at Giles, but gazing blankly at the girls with him. "Ah, Buffy," Giles said. "Good."

"You have an entourage," Buffy stated as she hugged him.

He chuckled. "Yes, we have a bit of an apocalypse."

"I've noticed," Buffy commented. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "Dead people are haunting us." Kennedy's head snapped up at her words. "Or more specifically, the First Evil is haunting is."

"The First Evil," Kennedy muttered lowly, a new dread slowly dawning on her mind. "What do you mean?" She asked, speaking up.

Buffy glanced over at her. "Who is she?" She asked.

"These girls are Potential Slayers. They're being hunted down and killed. I've brought them here for protection."

"I'm Kennedy," the dark haired Potential introduced herself.

"The First Evil is an…," Buffy stopped haltingly. "Willow!" She called over her shoulder.

The red haired witch popped into view. "What's up?" She asked, taking a moment to study the group huddled on the porch. When she saw the dark haired girl next to Giles staring back at her with something sparking in her eyes, she reddened and looked away. Kennedy smiled; even if she was crazy, she was still charming.

"What was that word you used to describe the First?" Buffy asked.

"Incorporeal?" Willow supplied.

"Yeah," Buffy nodded. "That. The First Evil is that."

"It's a spirit," Willow elaborated. "An evil one."

"Thank you, captain obvious," Buffy joked.

Willow rolled her eyes. "Hey, you say the word next time," she said, stalking back into the house.

Buffy stifled a laugh. "Anyway, it can appear as anyone who's dead. It's been driving us nuts."

"Yes," Giles said, cleaning his glasses on his shirt, "well, I believe that is the same entity trying to kill these girls. Can we come in or do we have to stand out here all day?" He asked.

"Oh," Buffy replied, opening the door further. "Sorry."

The girls piled into the house. "Nice place," Molly commented. "Bit of a mess," she added upon further inspection.

"You seem pretty interested in this stuff," Buffy said as Kennedy walked by her.

"Well, when your Watcher gets butchered in front of you that tends to stick with you," Kennedy shot back irritably.

"Right," Buffy replied, at a loss of how to respond. Giles closed the door behind him after Annabelle had entered.

"Don't worry about her," Giles said, laying his hand on Buffy's shoulder. "We're all rather tired and uncomfortable. Kennedy's got a bit of a spirit, but the Council has high hopes for her."

"What do you mean, high hopes?" Buffy asked.

"They believe she's the next in line," Giles replied. "She's certainly one of the best trained Potentials. She'll be an asset to us in whatever's coming."

Giles moved passed her into the living room, where the girls were sprawled out on the couch and chairs. Buffy watched him walk up to Willow and hug her briefly. From her position on the couch, Kennedy could see Buffy. The blonde Slayer was shorter than she had anticipated, but she could sense the power resting in her muscles. Letting her eyes wander over to the beautiful red head standing only a few feet away, she sighed. The sofa was impossibly comfortable after the cramped plane seats to which she had become accustomed.

Her thoughts drifted back to what Buffy had said only a few minutes earlier. The First Evil could appear as any dead person. A cold shiver suddenly ran through Kennedy's body. "Any dead person," she muttered inaudibly. For years she had been seeing visions of the dead, or so she had thought. Now she wasn't certain whether she had been seeing visions of the First or visions of the dead. A wave of nausea crashed over her when a new thought popped into her mind. If the First could be any dead person, than the First could be Eli.


	5. Turokan

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Five: Turokan:

The rest of the Potentials were asleep on the couch, but Kennedy struggled to remain awake. The Slayer and her friends were researching the First and, in order to both learn more about their enemy and ingratiate herself with her new hosts, she had volunteered to help. However, every few seconds her eyes fluttered closed. The page in front of her blurred and danced as her mind succumbed to sleep. She would have fallen, had Willow not plopped down next to her. Kennedy's eyes shot open and she shifted her gaze to the book. Willow chuckled.

"I know you were falling asleep," the red haired witch murmured lowly.

"No, I wasn't," Kennedy replied, with a hint of a smile gracing her lips.

"Uh huh," Willow said.

"Truth be told," Kennedy admitted, "I'm not much for the books."

"I don't think Slayer types really are," Willow replied, smiling over at her. "You know, no one would blame you if you sacked out for a little while like the others."

"I'm fine," Kennedy said distantly.

"No offense, but you don't look fine," Willow shot back. Kennedy looked over at her with a questioning stare and Willow blushed. "Well, that's not exactly true. I mean, you look good. You definitely look good. Not that I particularly noticed or anything," Willow backpedaled. "Okay," she relented, "so I obviously noticed otherwise I wouldn't have said it. So we've established that you look good. But you also look like you haven't slept in a while, so that was all I meant."

Kennedy laughed. She had never heard anyone say so much without taking a breath in her life. "Congratulations," Xander said, glancing up from his book, "you've just been initiated into Willow babble."

"Willow babble?" Kennedy asked.

"Yeah," Dawn said, picking up the conversation, "when Willow gets nervous, she starts babbling."

"You're nervous, huh?" Kennedy asked, looking back at the older woman and raising an eyebrow.

"No," Willow replied quickly.

"Uh huh," Kennedy said knowingly. "It's okay."

"What's okay?" Willow asked.

"I know I make women nervous," Kennedy replied, winking to the red haired woman as she stood and stretched. Her shirt rode up, revealing a few inches of tanned, toned flesh. Willow watched her, but quickly looked away when Kennedy smirked down at her. Leaning over, she whispered, "I'm just so damn hot."

"Where're you going?" Willow asked, flustered, when the Potential moved away.

"Need a drink," Kennedy said, licking her lips, "want anything?"

Willow blushed again and Dawn snickered. "I'd say she does," the Key murmured.

"No, I'm good," Willow replied, pointedly glaring at Dawn.

Kennedy chuckled to herself as she left the living room and wandered into the kitchen. Buffy had given her and the others a tour of the house earlier. Though she still was a little confused, she knew her way around enough to find the things she needed. After the tour, the rest of the girls had collapsed while the others had started researching the First with the aim of finding some vampire named Spike. Kennedy didn't know why they were all so concerned about finding a vampire, but she was new and thought it best not to question anything quite yet. Once she had her footing in Sunnydale, she would feel more comfortable questioning the older Slayer. However, her fatigue and the recent bombshell regarding the First's ability to transform into any dead person had left her rather shaky.

Kennedy grabbed a glass from the cabinet and filled it with water. The liquid was cool and refreshing as it slid down her throat. Closing her eyes, she leaned against the counter and sighed. Her conversation with Willow flashed through her mind again and she smiled. The red haired girl was attracted to her, Kennedy knew that much. What she would do about it, however, the Potential didn't know. Something about the older girl drew her in irresistibly and she had only known her for a few hours. Willow looked so innocent, but a depth of emotion raged behind her eyes. Kennedy saw sadness and grief there. With any other girl, she would have already made her move, but something held her back. She respected that grief; she knew that it was something to be dealt with gingerly.

"You look deep in thought." Kennedy opened her eyes and saw Eli standing across from her. For the first time since she had met him, she was afraid of him.

"What're you doing here?" She asked lowly.

Eli gazed at her confusedly. "What do you mean?" He asked. "Wherever you go, I go."

"Yeah," Kennedy said, approaching him, "and why is that?" She gazed fiercely up at him. She hated to see the hurt in his ghostly eyes, but she didn't back down.

"What's going on?" Eli asked. "Why are you acting like this?"

"Who are you really?" Kennedy asked.

"You know who I am," Eli replied angrily.

"The First?" Kennedy shot back.

"What?" Eli replied. "No. How could you ask me that?"

"Because for all I know, you're the First Evil and you've been following me around for years," Kennedy whispered harshly. "And I wouldn't even know the difference if you were."

Eli stared at her silently. "I think I should go," he finally said.

"I think you should too," Kennedy agreed. She blinked and he was gone. Something ached in her heart. She had just told her best friend to leave. She wanted to call him back, but she restrained herself. The days of training were over. The fight had finally come and she had to put away all of her childish fears. She couldn't rely on Eli anymore, not when she couldn't be certain who he really was.

The kitchen door opened and Willow walked in. "Hey," she said, "Buffy wanted me to come find you."

"Why?" Kennedy asked, pushing the fear and pain from her eyes.

"It's been a while with that glass of water," Willow said, nodding to the half empty glass in the Potential's hand. "She just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"_She_ did, huh?" Kennedy asked.

Willow smiled a little. Kennedy thought it looked sad. "You know," Willow said softly, "you don't really know that much about me."

"No, I don't," Kennedy agreed.

Willow looked up. "I'm not imagining things, right? You are flirting with me."

"Yeah," Kennedy stated.

Willow nodded. "I don't think that's such a good idea," she finally said.

"Why not?" The younger girl asked, moving around the kitchen island to stand next to the red head.

"I'm not the person you think I am," Willow stated. "There are things about me you don't know. Things that might make you think differently of me if you knew them."

Kennedy sighed and sat the glass down on the island. "You know something, Willow? I'm not the person you think I am either. Trust me when I say that there are plenty of things about me you don't know. Even some that might make you think differently of me. Everyone has secrets," she said.

"What are yours?" Willow asked, curiosity overcoming her.

Kennedy smiled slyly. "That's not how this works," she said. "I want to know more about you and I think you want to know more about me. So let's leave it at that for now, okay? I don't want to push you."

Willow studied her for a moment and nodded again. "Okay," she agreed. "So tell me something about you I don't know."

"I think you're absolutely gorgeous," Kennedy replied instantly.

Willow blushed. "That's not about you," she admonished.

"Sure it is," Kennedy argued. "How I see the world and the things in it should tell you a lot about me."

"I'm a witch," Willow said suddenly. "I do magic."

"Magic?" Kennedy asked. She had never cared much about magic, or even known much about it.

Willow nodded. "And it's not always good."

Willow looked so lost when she said those words. For a moment, Kennedy wanted to tell her about what she could see. Before she could, Buffy walked into the room. "You guys coming back anytime soon?" She asked.

…………………………………

Faith and Kate walked side by side down the road leading toward Buffy's house. The night was calm and peaceful; the stroll would have been a pleasant one, had the memory of the attack at the bus depot not been lingering over both women. Kate was fidgeting with her hands while Faith continually searched the darkness around them for any sign of movement. "We're almost there," the dark haired Slayer finally said, breaking the silence that had fallen uncomfortably between them.

"That's good," Kate replied, her voice louder than she would have liked. She smiled sheepishly. "I guess I'm a little nervous."

"That's okay," Faith said. "You have every right to be." In a low whisper, she muttered, "Hell, so am I."

"So what is Buffy like?" Kate asked to keep the conversation flowing. The former rogue had the tendency to drift into brooding silence, which unnerved Kate almost as much as their walk through town.

Faith chuckled. "Do you really want my opinion on that matter?" She asked.

"Yeah," Kate answered. "You know her. I don't."

"I know her in a different way than you will," Faith said. She shook her head when Kate glanced over at her questioningly. "Don't ask," she murmured. "Anyway," she continued louder, "Buffy's self righteous. She has a major stick up her ass. Everything has to be done her way, or she throws a fit. Hell, she's just downright temperamental." Faith ran a hand through her hair and sighed. "But she's heroic and all that shit too. Kinda hard not to be when you've got this gig."

"So basically, she's just like everyone else," Kate supplied. "Selfish and needy, but brave in all the right moments?"

"Pretty much," Faith said, amazed at the girl's insight. "So how old are you anyway?" She asked.

"Sixteen," Kate replied. "I'm getting kinda old to still be a Potential."

"Old?" Faith asked.

"Most Slayers are called when they're fourteen or fifteen," Kate answered. Faith thought she heard sadness lingering behind her words.

"You know, Kate," Faith said hesitantly, "being a Slayer isn't all it's cracked up to be. I don't know what they tell you at the Council to suck you into all this, but it's a lonely life."

Kate smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I know," she said simply. "I'm living it. Only, I don't get the benefit of having any power. I train, I learn. Sometimes I'm allowed to fight something. I lived with my Watcher. No family, no friends. The only other people I knew were more Watchers and Potentials. Believe me, Faith," Kate insisted, "I know what living a lonely life is like."

"Yeah," Faith said distantly, "I guess you do."

They walked in silence. Only three more blocks separated them from Buffy's house. The closer they came, the more anxious Faith became. She didn't know how Buffy would react to seeing her again. Part of her wanted to drop off the Potential and slip away into the night before Buffy could open the door, but Faith knew that she couldn't leave the girl without ensuring that she was safe. Her anxiety increased until it threatened to overwhelm her. It wasn't until she heard footsteps behind her that she realized she wasn't just anxious; her Slayer senses were ringing wildly out of control.

"Shit," Faith muttered, stopping mid-stride, annoyed with her own lack of perception.

"What is it?" Kate asked fearfully.

Slowly, both girls turned around. Standing underneath of the streetlamp behind them was a vampire. But he didn't look like a normal vampire. His teeth protruded from his mouth, his fingernails were lengthened into claws. Leather covered his body and his head was bare. His face was wrinkled and transformed into its demonic visage. "Vampire," Faith replied. "I'll handle this." Pulling out her stake, she advanced. The vampire hissed at her and moved forward. Lashing out her fist, Faith struck it in the face. The blow would have knocked an ordinary vampire to the ground, but this vampire just stared at her. Lifting the corners of its mouth, it smiled a cruel and twisted smile. "Well, shit again," Faith said when the vampire raised its fist and hit her in the side of her head.

Light exploded in front of her eyes and she dropped to the pavement. The world was spinning when she sat up and glanced back at the frightened Potential. "Kate," she said, blood dribbling from her nose, "the house is three blocks on the left. It's white, grayish roof, trees in front. 1630 Revello Drive. Now run!"

The Potential nodded and sprinted away, running as fast as her legs would carry her through the night. She didn't look back, for fear that she would see the vampire slowly draining the life from the former rogue Slayer. She knew that if she reached the house in time, she could enlist Buffy's aid in saving Faith. When she found the house, she ran up the porch stairs and pounded tirelessly on the door. It swung open, revealing a blonde girl with a stake in her hand.

"Who're you and why are you beating on my door?" Buffy asked warily.

"My name is Kate," the Potential said breathlessly. "I'm a Potential Slayer. Faith found me. She was attacked a few blocks down the road and told me to run. You have to help her."

"Attacked by what?" Buffy asked. She tried to keep her voice detached, but concern slipped into it. She didn't know how she felt about the dark haired Slayer's return to Sunnydale. Faith always stirred up a multitude of emotions in Buffy – many of which the older girl didn't want to feel. But despite whatever lingering anger remained between them, Buffy didn't want the younger girl to die.

"A vampire," Kate answered.

"A vampire?" Buffy asked confusedly. "Like one vampire?"

"Like one really strong one," Kate elaborated.

"He must have gotten the jump on her," Buffy said, shoving her stake in her pocket. Motioning for Kate to enter the house, she stalked back into the living room. "Guys?" She asked, getting everyone's attention. "Faith is in trouble with a vampire. I'm going to help her."

"Faith is in town?" Willow asked, looking up from her book. "Since when?"

"This afternoon," Buffy replied.

"When were you planning on telling us this?" Xander asked.

"Sometime," she said defensively, then shrugged. "It wasn't big on my list."

"Uh, Buffy?" Kate interrupted. "I think you're misunderstanding this whole thing."

"How so?" Buffy asked as she grabbed a knife from the weapons chest.

"The vampire didn't get a jump on her. He didn't sneak up on her or anything. He's just really, really strong."

Giles looked up. "I think I should go with you," he said, something in the young girl's words worrying him.

"Okay," Buffy nodded.

"Who's going to protect these girls when you're gone?" Dawn asked.

"Will?" Buffy said as she and Giles moved toward the door.

"What?"

"Protect the girls," she instructed.

"Uh, how?" Willow replied.

"You know how," Buffy said, her face darkening for a moment. Before Willow could protest, she and Giles had left.

Kate stared after them, torn between following and remaining in the safety of the house. "Take a seat," Xander said jovially, deciding for her. "And a book."

Kate sighed and sat in an arm chair as another teenage girl shoved a book in her direction.

"Here you go," she said. "I'm Kennedy. We're looking for stuff on the First Evil."

"I'm Kate," Kate replied, accepting the book with a smile.

"Don't worry about Faith," Xander said. "Buffy's the best in the business."

"So what was all that about before?" Kennedy whispered over to Willow.

Willow glanced up at Xander, though he was looking away. "Nothing."

"It's wasn't nothing," Kennedy said.

"It was about magic," Willow replied evasively.

"So Buffy wants you to protect the house with magic if something happens. What's the big deal?" Kennedy asked, ignorant of Willow's former addiction to black magic.

Willow sighed. "It's not so simple as all that," she replied, looking into the deep, brown eyes of the girl sitting next to her. "I'm not so sure I can ever use magic again."

"Why not?" Kennedy prodded.

"Because if I do," Willow said darkly, "I just might kill you all."


	6. Blackening

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Six: Blackening:

Buffy ran down the street, the night flying by her in an indistinct blur of muted colors, all of her thoughts bent on her sister Slayer. Despite her tumultuous relationship with Faith, she didn't want her partner Slayer to die. Hope lingered somewhere in her heart, somewhere in the deep and dark places into which Buffy hadn't peered in a long time, hope that she and Faith could mend whatever went wrong between them and embark on a new life. Buffy didn't know what that life would look like. Though she rarely admitted it to herself, even in the silence and loneliness of her bedroom, part of her was in love with Faith. Perhaps not even the real Faith, but part of her was in love with the idea of Faith – a rebellious, sexual, energetic warrior who cared nothing for the world but the moment and who fought with such abandon. Buffy suspected that her feelings were more than just love for some an idealized image. When she saw Faith again, she knew without even hearing the words the dark haired Slayer said that she was different. She had seen it in Faith's eyes. That frenetic, almost desperate, energy was gone, replaced by something calmer, wiser, and older.

She liked that new Faith too. The blending of new and old worked well in the younger Slayer. Gracefully, she had transitioned into a new person and Buffy wanted to know more about her. At the same time, Buffy didn't want anything to do with her. She couldn't resolve those feelings. The distrust, even hatred, lingered in the more prominent parts of her heart. She couldn't forget how Faith had betrayed her and her friends. She couldn't forget the coldness with which Faith had blown her off in the motel room when Buffy had tried to comfort her after Allen Finch's death. Though Faith had helped her defeat the Mayor through a Slayer dream, when she awoke from her coma, she was bent on destroying everything in Buffy's life – again. Twice Faith had tried to steal all of the good things in her life. Buffy wouldn't let it happen a third time.

But she also couldn't let her die. Within moments of leaving the house, she had lost Giles. Her legs carried her faster, more swiftly through the darkening night. She could hear him panting somewhere behind her, trying to keep up despite his age. She smiled a little. Sometimes Giles forgot that he was just a Watcher. Ahead of her, she saw two shadowy figures in the road. The one on the ground she assumed to be Faith. That figure wasn't moving. The other circled triumphantly around the downed person. Buffy ran faster. "Hey!" She yelled, attempting to distract the vampire as it leaned over Faith. Its back was arched and it writhed down to her like a serpent about to strike a terrified animal.

"Hey!" Buffy called again and, this time, the vampire looked up at her. She could see it clearly now. Its teeth hung out of its mouth, grossly distorted. She sucked in a breath when she realized how alike the vampire looked to the Master. Slowing, she pulled out her stake. She needed to save Faith, who was lying on the ground in a crumpled, whimpering heap. "You okay there, Faith?" Buffy asked, her eyes never leaving the hissing vampire. Faith replied, but the words were garbled in pain. Buffy slipped a peak down at her and grimaced. She was covered in blood. The blonde Slayer was worried. Faith was a strong, talented fighter. The vampire had evidently been stronger.

Giles finally caught up to her. "Good Lord," he muttered when he saw Faith. Glancing up, he took a moment to study the vampire before him. It wasn't like any he had seen in life, save the Master, but he had seen it before in books.

"Get her," Buffy whispered. "While I distract the vampire." Giles nodded. Buffy moved forward, her arms and legs a flurry of hits and kicks. The vampire took them all, barely moving, barely acknowledging the impact of the blows. Buffy's anxiety increased. The vampire smiled at her and lashed out with its fist, striking her in the side of the head. Stars exploded in front of her eyes and she dropped as Giles was sliding Faith back down the road. "Ow," Buffy muttered and rolled out of the way as the vampire attempted to stomp on her. After another unsuccessful attempt at offense, Buffy learned the lesson which Faith had learned a bit too late. The only way to fight this vampire was defensively. "Giles?" Buffy asked as she dodged the vampire.

"Yes?" Giles called back. He was halfway down the road with Faith.

"Get her home," Buffy said. "I'll be right behind you." Within a few moments, he had disappeared around the bend. Only a block remained between him and the house. She had to bide her time until then. Dodging another blow, Buffy started running. The road circled around, eventually coming back to where she had found Faith. Before it did, it passed her house again. By the time she had completed the circuit, Giles should be back with Faith. The vampire followed her, choosing to pursue the livelier sport rather than go after the half dead Slayer in the arms of the Watcher.

The vampire ran fast, but Buffy ran faster. It started to lag behind as Buffy rounded the loop and started running back to her home. When she reached the front porch, Giles had just opened the door with his free hand as he cradled the unconscious former rogue in his arms. "How is she?" Buffy asked breathlessly.

"I can't say yet. The vampire?" Giles asked worriedly.

"Too strong," Buffy shook her head. "I had to run."

Giles nodded. He knew that Buffy hated the idea of fleeing a battle. But in some cases, she had no choice. The blonde girl had learned that over the seven years she had been Slayer. "Clear off the sofa," Giles instructed. Buffy entered the house ahead of him and closed and locked the door behind him. Moving into the living room, she said, "Okay, everyone off the couch. Make room."

Kennedy jumped to her feet, Willow beside her. Nudging one of the dozing Potentials, they all moved to the other side of the room. Giles entered and deposited Faith on the couch. "Goddess," Willow murmured when she saw the blood slicked face of the dark Slayer.

"Get some warm water, bandages, ice, towels, alcohol," Giles said. "The first aid kit too. She may require some stitches, so the sewing kit."

Xander and Dawn left to procure the items while Giles gingerly removed Faith's shirt. A large gash ran across her forehead, matching a wound on the back of her head. Bruises were forming on her neck, as though the vampire had tried to strangle her. Buffy let her eyes wander down Faith's exposed skin. Buffy stopped breathing momentarily when her eyes landed on the line of raised flesh that had scared the knife wound the blonde Slayer had inflicted on her years ago. Faith's left side was black, her ribs obviously broken in several places. Claw marks marred her chest. Her right arm was swollen, also broken. Giles checked her legs, but her injuries stopped at the claw marks on her stomach. The vampire hadn't bothered with her legs. He had been trying to kill her, not injure her.

"Who is she?" Kennedy whispered over to Willow. She and the rest of the group were standing or sitting on the other side of the room, mostly in silence, transfixed by the image before them.

"Faith," Willow said, forcibly tearing her eyes away from the injured Slayer to look at the Potential standing next to her. "She's the other Slayer."

"The one who went bad?" Kennedy asked.

"Yeah," Willow replied. "Although, from what I hear, she's good now."

"She has to be," Kate threw in, overhearing their conversation. "She saved me."

Kennedy glanced over at the other Potential and saw tears glistening in her eyes. "I'm sure she'll be okay. Slayer healing and all." Kate nodded and looked away.

"What did this to her?" Willow asked. Buffy glanced back at her and shook her head.

"You don't want to tell her because we're here," Kennedy stated, referring to herself and the other Potentials.

"I don't want to scare you," Buffy said simply.

"Little late for that," Annabelle muttered.

"Listen," Kennedy said, stepping forward. "This isn't just about you anymore. It's about all of us. They're trying to kill us too," she said, motioning to the world outside of the window. "We need to know what's going on. We can't just sit here in the dark waiting to die because you don't want to scare us."

Giles glanced over at Buffy, who shrugged. "Tell them or don't tell them," she said, sitting on the easy chair while Giles toweled the blood away from Faith's skin. "I don't care."

"The vampire wasn't just a normal vampire," Giles explained. "I've never seen one before, except for perhaps the Master."

"The Master?" Molly asked.

"Another story for another time," Buffy replied.

"Anyway, I've read about them in books. This vampire was called a Turok-Han. They're a race of very old, very powerful vampires. Quite strong."

"Stronger than a Slayer," Dawn commented idly. Buffy through her a harsh glance and the Key cleared her throat. "Or not," she mumbled.

"They haven't been seen for centuries," Giles said. "They exist now only in Hell."

"But if one is here," Willow said, furrowing her brow in confusion, "than that's not true."

"Wait a minute," Xander said, jumping to his feet. "I'm having a thought here."

"Look out," Anya muttered, "he's having a thought."

Dawn snickered at the ex-vengeance demon. "What is your thought, Xan?" She asked.

"Thank you," he said, bowing his head slightly in her direction. "If these things are only supposed to be in Hell and one's here, I think it's fairly obvious where it came from."

"Hell?" Kennedy tentatively supplied.

"Exactly," Xander said, clapping his hands. "And how would something get out of Hell here in Sunnydale."

"The Hellmouth," Giles said dryly.

"Why didn't you think of that?" Buffy asked, glancing amusedly over at her Watcher.

"Perhaps I'm getting old," Giles joked back. "My faculties must be slowing."

Willow laughed and the sound filled Kennedy's ears like music. "Okay," she spoke up, "sorry if I'm being a little dense here, but so what? It came out of the Hellmouth. How does that help us?"

"If it was able to come out of the Hellmouth," Giles reasoned as he stitched the gash running across Faith's forehead, "than the Hellmouth must be open, or at least was open. However, if was totally open, it would be complete chaos out there."

"Since it's not," Willow picked up, "the Hellmouth can't be totally open."

"Only partially," Dawn continued.

"Which means," Anya said excitedly, "that the First Evil is somehow opening the Hellmouth a little bit at a time."

"Precisely," Giles said.

"How would they be doing that?" Buffy asked.

"I don't know," Giles said contemplatively. "But I've got the feeling that somehow Spike may be involved in all of this. Opening a Hellmouth sometimes requires ritualistic type actions, such as blood sacrifice."

"If the First was trying to open the Hellmouth and it needed a ritual like this to do it, than a normal human wouldn't do the trick," Willow said.

"Why not?" Annabelle cut in.

"Because a normal human would run out of blood too quickly," Kennedy said grimly.

"Nice," Kate commented.

Willow smiled lopsidedly at Kennedy. "Unfortunate, but true," she said. "A vampire, however, wouldn't."

"So it's safe to assume that the First Evil has Spike at the Hellmouth and is using him to open it to release these super vampires," Xander summarized.

"Can we not say super vampire, please?" Buffy asked, glancing over at the unconscious Slayer on the couch. Giles had finished stitching her head and had moved onto the claw marks on her chest and stomach, but Buffy couldn't tear her eyes away from that scar.

"Sorry, Buff," Xander replied. "Didn't mean to emasculate you there."

"It's okay," she replied off-handedly.

"So what do we do now?" Anya asked.

"Charge in there and rescue Spike?" Buffy suggested weakly.

"When we don't know how many of those things might be out there?" Kennedy asked, gesturing toward the unconscious Slayer. "Not so much a good idea."

"I agree," Willow stated, which earned a grin from the Potential standing next to her.

Buffy frowned. She didn't know if she liked Kennedy's attitude toward Willow. The red haired witch had just found her balance. She didn't need some overzealous teenager hanging on her every word. "So what do you think we should do?" Buffy asked, more harshly than she intended.

Willow inwardly winced, but stood her ground. "Rescuing Spike should be a priority," she said. Buffy smiled and Willow held up her hand warningly. "But not because you want to." Buffy opened her mouth to respond, but Willow cut her off. "We need to get him back so the First can't use him to open the Hellmouth and release any more of those things. That's not to say that it couldn't kidnap some other unwitting vampire and do the same."

"But we can't go out there right now, Buff," Xander said. "Not with that thing running loose. Not knowing how many more there are."

"This isn't a democracy," Buffy replied roughly.

"If you want to be the only one going, Buffy," Willow stated, "then go. But we've all seen what that vampire did to Faith. You're not going to fare any better by yourself."

Giles nodded as he finished stitching the last of the claw marks marring Faith's body. "Xander and Willow are right. It would reckless to go out there now. We should go in the daylight."

"Need I remind anyone that Spike is a vampire?" Buffy asked. "Daylight not so good."

"No," Xander said coldly, "you don't have to remind anyone of that."

"Fine," Buffy said, throwing up her hands. "Whatever you say."

She stormed out of the room and Willow sighed. "Is she always so bossy?" Kennedy whispered.

"All the time," Willow shot back and smiled.

"How is she looking, Giles?" Dawn asked, nodding to Faith.

Giles sighed and pressed an ice pack against her bruising, blackening ribs. "We'll see in the morning."


	7. Like a Thousand Grains of Sand

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Seven: Like a Thousand Grains of Sand:

"I thought once you joined in evil-fightin' you didn't have to go to school anymore," Kennedy grumbled tiredly as she, the other Potentials, and the Scooby Gang stood before the recently rebuilt edifice of Sunnydale High School.

"Especially on a Saturday," Xander added.

"At seven o'clock in the morning," Dawn continued.

"With no real, concrete plan," Annabelle said.

"Except to save some blonde, spiky haired vampire," Anya said, "that everybody but Buffy doesn't really give a shit about."

"Hey, I kinda like him," Dawn said. "Or, well, I did."

"He's not all bad," Willow added when she saw Buffy's face fall. "I mean, he does have his good points."

"Which are?" Giles asked expectantly.

"Well," Willow said, her face growing red as she struggled for words.

Kennedy smirked and replied for the witch. "He's the one thing the First has been able to use to open the Hellmouth. I think that makes him pretty damn important." Willow sighed and smiled her thanks over at the younger girl.

"Exactly," Buffy finally said. "Now, is everyone done complaining? Can we go on with this please?"

"I think we're good," Xander replied.

"One thing though," Molly interrupted.

"What's that?" Buffy asked, glancing back at the twitchy Potential.

"I've never exactly killed a vampire before," she said.

"Me neither," Annabelle piped up.

"It's not that hard," Kennedy supplied. "Just shove the stake in its chest."

"And if it's one of those big, ugly vampires?" Molly asked fearfully.

"Leave them to me," Buffy said stoically. "Let's go."

Leading the way, she walked across the smooth, dew covered grass before the entrance of the school. For a moment, she felt like she was sixteen years old again, walking up to school in the morning, her tired eyes dragging as she thought about the history quiz she hadn't had time to study for and the latest demon crisis that had pulled her attention away from said quiz. She blinked and she was at the front doors, but the school was different. It wasn't hers anymore; it belonged to a new class. The familiar building was gone; destroyed in the explosion that killed the Mayor. She was older now. She didn't look much older, but she felt it. In her bones, she felt like she had aged hundreds of years. Her body was tired of fighting. In all of the classic poems, after the warrior's final battle, he was allowed to rest in the great hall of Valhalla. Every fight seemed as though it was her final battle and she wanted to rest.

She lingered a moment before the door, her hand resting on the cool, metal handle. Xander sidled up to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay, Buff?" He asked lowly, so that the others wouldn't hear.

"Yeah," she said, her eyes dazed as she looked up at him. "Just felt like I was sixteen again there for a minute."

"I know what you mean," Xander said, smiling crookedly down at her. Glancing up at the newly constructed building, he said, "I think I spent more time at school than anywhere else, which is strange, because I can't say I learned all that much."

"Why they decided to rebuild this thing on the Hellmouth, I'll never know," Buffy commented when she threw open the door. Sunlight streamed down the hallway, reflecting off of the blue lockers and recently buffed floor.

"So what's the plan, Buffy?" Willow asked as they filed into the building.

"Spike will be in the basement," Buffy said. "Willow, I want you, Anya, Kate, and Molly to stay up here. Keep an eye out for any Bringers. Xander, Kennedy, Giles, Annabelle, and Dawn will come with me down into the basement. We're just here to get Spike. We don't need to get into any fights we aren't prepared for," Buffy said, looking each person in the eye as she spoke.

"Good luck, Xander," Anya said, patting him on the shoulder, as the groups split. "Try not to get killed."

"Yeah, you too," he said, smiling at her. Every time he looked at her, he regretted leaving her at the altar. He could see the pain in her eyes always. It lingered there, not quite as immediate as it had been, but not a faded memory either. Mingled with the pain, there was still love. It shined in his eyes too. But neither he, nor the ex-vengeance demon, knew how to heal their tattered relationship. They circled each other, moments of truth revealing themselves for an instant before sinking underneath of the surface again.

"Kennedy," Buffy said, moving over to the Potential. "I want you to stay by me. Giles says you have the most experience of any of the girls. I might need your help."

"Okay," Kennedy said, nodding. As she and the others moved into the receding darkness of the hallway, she glanced back at Willow. The red haired witch stood nervously in a halo of light, her green eyes filled with chaos and fear. "One day I'll find out what that's all about," Kennedy whispered.

The darkness grew as they walked further and further from the door. The exit lights lit the floor in eerie tones of green and red. Kennedy suddenly felt very alone, even though a group of people surrounded her. She had never fought without Eli by her side. Even though she had reason to suspect him of being the First, she still wanted him there. They reached the access door for the basement and Buffy paused. "Weapons ready," she said. The girls raised their stakes and knives.

Buffy opened the door and stared down into the yawning abyss of the basement. In one moment, she was bathed by the phosphorescent glow of the exit lights, in another, blackness overwhelmed her. She couldn't see, but with her fingers, clasped the railing at the side of the staircase and picked her way down. They hadn't brought flashlights because they didn't want any wandering Bringers or vampires to become alerted to their presence too quickly. "Go carefully," Buffy whispered.

Kennedy felt a moment of blinding fear just before she stepped down onto the first step. As she glanced over her shoulder at Xander, who brought up the rear, she saw Eli standing behind him. "Didn't think I'd let you do this on your own, did you?" He said jokingly, but she could hear pain in his voice. Sighing with relief, she closed her eyes for a moment, and continued her descent. She didn't reply; she didn't want Buffy to hear her supposedly talking to herself. But her shoulders relaxed and she knew that Eli would be able to see the tension release from her muscles.

They reached the bottom of the stairs and started down a long, dark hallway. The boiler room was behind them and the furnace hissed as they walked. It sounded like some monster hiding in the darkness. Dawn shivered. "This is entirely creepy," she muttered.

"You're telling me," Annabelle said, gripping her stake tighter.

"Be quiet, guys," Buffy instructed.

Ahead of them, the faint, shimmering outline of a door seemed to float in the darkness. Buffy strained to hear any sounds coming from the room, but she heard nothing. They moved closer and closer, each step bringing them toward the square of disembodied light at the end of the hallway. Finally, they were in the doorway. Buffy glanced into the room, relieved to see that it was vacant, save for the object of their mission hanging from a device in the center of the room. Beneath him, a symbol had been painted on the floor. The ground around it was disturbed, where the Hellmouth had opened to release one of its vile creatures.

Buffy entered the room and Spike glanced up warily. "Oh, not again," he said. "Bugger off. I'm done talkin' to you. You can't fool me anymore. I'm done with it all."'

"What're you talking about?" Buffy asked as the others entered behind her.

Spike's eyes narrowed in confusion when he saw the group. "New tricks, huh?" He asked. "Spreading yourself out like that. Very bleeding impressive. Can't wait to see what you try next. Like a fuckin' circus in here. So many freaks," he muttered and a splotch of blood dribbled from his lips and splashed onto the floor.

"I think he's hallucinating," Xander offered.

"No," Giles replied, pulling a camera out of his jacket pocket. He moved over to the symbol on the floor and snapped a shot of it. Then he took a picture of where Spike was hanging, though the vampire wouldn't show up on the film. "He thinks that we're the First," he continued. "But I assure you," he said sincerely to the vampire, "we are not. In fact, we're here to help you."

Spike stared at him for a moment. "Okay," he said. "Prove it."

"Well," Giles said, pointing over to Annabelle and Kennedy. "You don't know those girls, do you?"

"No," Spike said.

"Why would the First Evil come to you in the guise of people you don't even know?" Giles asked.

Spike remained silent for a moment while Buffy cut loose the bonds holding him in the air. "Good point," he said as he began to fall. Buffy caught him and steadied him on his feet.

"You okay?" She asked, glancing tentatively up at him. Spike was like Faith in a lot of ways. Buffy never knew how to act around him. Some parts of her hated him, others liked having him around. She could never reconcile the two, just like she could never reconcile how she felt about Faith. Thoughts of the dark haired Slayer led Buffy to wonder how the girl lying on her couch was faring. She had still been unconscious when they left that morning.

"Peachy," Spike replied, wiping some blood from his mouth. "Could go ten rounds with grizzly bear."

"I'll bet," Buffy said, smiling slightly.

As she began moving him toward the door, a shimmering, black light appeared in the corner of the room. Kennedy saw it first. Eli stiffened behind her. "I think you'll see now," he whispered into her ear, "that I've always been who I said I was."

Kennedy looked back at him. When she turned her attention to the light in the corner, it had formed the shape of a person. "Uh, guys?" She said, calling their attention to the vision that she saw. "What is that?"

Spike groaned. "It's the bloody First," he said.

The shape solidified and took on features – the features of Buffy herself. Kennedy watched with amazement. The First looked exactly like the blonde haired Slayer, except for one thing, one little thing that no one else but she could see. Just where its heart should have been, that black light lingered, revealing its soulless nature. "I can tell the difference," Kennedy whispered to herself, hope springing in her heart. "It can't fool me."

"Where do you think you're going, Spikey?" The First asked through Buffy's voice. "I wasn't quite done with you yet."

"Sorry, bitch," Spike spat out, "but I can't see this relationship going anywhere."

Buffy chuckled, but she was worried. The First knew that they were in the school now. "Keep moving," she whispered to the others. They turned to leave, but the First called out again.

"I know one of you," it said tauntingly. "Oh yes, I know one of you."

They stopped walking and turned as the First walked up to them. Its eyes locked with Kennedy and the Potential shifted her eyes to the ground. Buffy looked over at the dark haired girl. "I think it's talking to you," she said.

"Oh yes," the First whispered. "I know you." It stopped just in front of Kennedy. Raising her eyes, Kennedy looked the First directly in the face. Its eyes were blank, windowless voids into which nothing but darkness fell. "You're the one, aren't you?" It asked, leaning closer. "You're the one who sees."

"What is it talking about, Kennedy?" Buffy asked sternly.

Giles watched the interaction curiously. He had suspected that Kennedy was hiding something from him. The First had confirmed it. "I have no idea," Kennedy said, her voice wavering slightly as she spoke.

"Oh, she lies," the First said. "Yes." Smiling, she stepped impossibly close to Kennedy. "Who is that man standing behind you?" It asked suddenly.

Kennedy stiffened. No one stood behind her, save Eli. The first could see her ghostly friend. The others glanced about confusedly. "Do you see anyone standing behind her?" Dawn asked.

"No," Annabelle replied.

"Neither do I," Giles said.

"Still waiting for an explanation here," Buffy demanded, turning her attention fully on the Potential at her side.

"Who is that man?" The First asked. It reached out its hand, as though to pass it directly through Kennedy to touch Eli. But something happened which it didn't expect. Where its hand should have passed through the flesh of Kennedy's stomach, it stopped, rebuffed by her body. Kennedy glanced down at the First Evil's hand.

"Wait a second," she said, a spark firing in her mind. She quickly raised her eyes to the First, which stared down at her in amazement. "Your hand should have passed through my stomach, but it didn't."

"What the hell," Spike commented.

Buffy stared at the girl next to her and the being in front of them. She felt as though all of the air had suddenly been sucked out of the room. "Kennedy," she said fearfully.

"You touched me," Kennedy continued, oblivious to how the others had backed away from her imperceptibly, perhaps not even knowing that they had moved. "You're supposed to be incorporeal, but you touched me. If you can touch me," she reasoned, her voice trailing off. Flicking her wrist out, she caught the First Evil's hand as it tried to pull away. Images flashed before her mind, thousands of them, falling between the sinews of her brain like sand falling through the waves. Death, destruction, violence, mayhem, anarchy, blood, all filtered through her mind in flashes that burned her. She started screaming, but she couldn't let go. The First started screaming. The images filled her; her screams filled her; pain filled her, but she couldn't let go. Finally, she felt herself falling backward. Buffy had grabbed her shoulders and yanked her away from the First. Kennedy felt the Slayer's powerful arms grasp her waist and lifted her.

"Let's go," Buffy shouted as Kennedy's eyes rolled closed. Darkness, sweet darkness, arrested the pain. But the images remained.


	8. The Blood Dimmed Tide is Loosed

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Eight: The Blood Dimmed Tide is Loosed:

Kennedy couldn't breathe. Eli knelt in front of her, a painfully worried look in his eyes, as he told her to focus on inhaling and exhaling in a rhythmic pattern. But she couldn't listen to him. She couldn't hear anything but a rushing in her ears and screams and the crackle and hiss of fire and the wet kiss of blood splattering on a wall. Images tumbled through her mind in a constant flow. They never stopped; they wouldn't stop, not even after Buffy had yanked her away from the First, severing the contact between them. Kennedy remembered the blonde Slayer dragging her out into the hallway. Bringers had started to swarm from all directions. She remembered hearing Buffy yell instructions to the others. The twang of arrows flying past her, the sharp ring of knives being unsheathed, meant nothing to Kennedy. She was lost.

When they made it up the stairs and were running down the hallway, out of the darkness, back into the light, she remembered Willow coming up to her and touching her face. The touch had sent flames shooting through her skin. The touch had chilled her to the bone. She couldn't reconcile what she was feeling with the things blurring past her eyes, with the evil that had invaded her consciousness. She knew that everyone had escaped from the high school alive. Annabelle had been wounded with an arrow, but she would heal. Spike, the focus of their mission, had ducked into the nearest manhole after nearly bursting into flames on the way out of the building. Buffy, for all of her experience as a Slayer, seemed to have forgotten that Spike was still a vampire and still reacted fatally to sunlight.

Kennedy knew all of these things, even though she couldn't quite remember how she had gotten from the school back to the house. She remembered Willow speaking to her, her voice laced with concern and fear. But she couldn't remember what the witch had said. When she reached the house and all of the eyes of the people around her had settled on her face, she had panicked. Rather than stand under their questions and accusations, she had fled, locking herself in the nearest room, which happened to be the downstairs bathroom. It wasn't that she didn't want to answer their questions. She wanted desperately to explain to them about her gift. She needed to unburden herself of the terrible and bloody visions she had been seeing.

But she couldn't think straight. The horrible images thrown into her mind when she had touched the First plagued her. She needed a few moments to breathe on her own before she faced the others, before she faced Willow. She didn't owe anything to Willow; she didn't know why she was so concerned with what the red haired witch thought of her. Willow was beautiful, anyone could see that. Kennedy wanted her, she couldn't deny that. But she hadn't known the witch long enough to form an attachment. Yet, she still hated to think that the older woman might look differently upon her when she revealed her secret.

"Just breathe, okay?" Eli said again. He hated to see her so disturbed, but he couldn't comfort her.

"I'm trying to breathe," Kennedy said raggedly. "I can't."

"Yes, you can," Eli said. "You're doing it right now. It just seems like you can't."

"You have no idea what I saw," Kennedy shot back. She heard Buffy bang on the bathroom door again, yelling at her to come out. Someone tried to calm the Slayer. Harsh words were exchanged and she banged on the door again. Kennedy didn't know why Buffy didn't just break down the door. She knew that the blonde Slayer suspected her of somehow betraying them, of lying to them. She supposed that Giles or one of the others had convinced her to let her have some space.

"I don't imagine it was nice," Eli replied. He sat cross legged in front of her.

"No, it wasn't," Kennedy said.

Through the door, she heard Buffy say, "I hear her talking in there. Who the hell is she talking to?"

"You have to tell them," Eli noted.

Kennedy closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall. The images were starting to slow. She felt like she could breathe again. A weight lifted off of her chest, but the images didn't fade from her mind. They receded into the background, absorbed, where they would forever rest and wait. "What happened back there?" Kennedy asked. "The First is supposed to be incorporeal. Nobody is supposed to be able to touch it. But I did. I touched it. I didn't just touch it," she said emphatically, "I connected with it. The moment I grabbed its arm, I felt like I was inside of its mind. I saw everything. I just don't know what to do with it all."

"You're overwhelmed," Eli said. "That's natural."

"What, were you a shrink before you died?" Kennedy shot back.

"No," Eli grinned. "But being dead does seem to give you some insight that you never had before."

Kennedy let out a long, ragged breath. "I don't think I can go out there. I don't think I can face all of them."

"You don't have to go out yet," Eli said comfortingly. "Just stay right here. You're safe here. I'm with you."

"Thanks," Kennedy replied, glancing over at him appreciatively. "I'm sorry I was a bitch to you before."

He smiled a little. "It's okay," he said with a shrug. "I get it. You didn't know if you could tell spirits like me apart from the First. It must have been a sickening feeling to believe that I was the First all along."

"But now I know differently. And I can tell the difference," Kennedy added. She shuddered when she remembered the black void where the First's heart should have been. Evil lingered in its eyes that Kennedy had never seen before and truly believed would never see again.

"If what you say is true," Eli noted, "and you were connected with the First, maybe you know something now that can help defeat it."

"Maybe I do," Kennedy replied off-handedly. "But I don't know if I'll ever be able to sort through all of these images to find anything to help. It's all too much. I can't even begin to understand it all. There's just so much pain and death. Blood everywhere."

"You saw evil," Eli commented.

"Yeah," Kennedy agreed softly. "I saw evil." Eli reached over to her. Where his hand should have rested on top of hers, it passed through it. Kennedy smiled at him. "You're a good friend, Eli."

"So are you," he replied.

Buffy banged on the door again. "Kennedy, I swear to God, if you don't open this fucking door I'll beat it down."

"Leave me the fuck alone already!" Kennedy shouted back angrily. "I don't want to talk to you."

"I don't care what you want," Buffy gritted through her teeth. "You lied to us. I need to know what you know. I need you to explain all of this to me so I can figure out if you're a threat to us or not."

Kennedy sighed. She heard feet shuffle up to the door and whispering voices. Buffy stomped off, but she could see the shadow of someone lingering by the door. A soft knock echoed through the small bathroom and she heard Willow's voice.

"Kenn?" She asked. "Can I talk to you?"

"What?" Kennedy asked, her voice losing its angry edge. Eli smirked. Glaring over at him, she asked lowly, "Got something to say?"

"Nothing," Eli said, grinning from ear to ear. "Got a thing for the witch, huh? You know what they say about redheads. Fiery in bed," he joked.

Kennedy tried to smack him in the arm, but her hand passed through him. "I wish I could touch you instead of the First," she said sadly. Eli nodded.

"Me too," he said. "Maybe then I wouldn't feel so alone."

"Can I come in?" Willow asked nervously.

"Is Buffy with you?" Kennedy asked.

"No," Willow replied.

"Is Buffy anywhere near the door?" She asked again.

"No," Willow reiterated.

Kennedy slowly rose to her feet, her legs shaking. She almost fell, but she steadied herself on the wall. Now that she was standing, she felt like she had to vomit. The room started spinning. "Are you okay?" Eli asked, rising alongside of her.

"Yeah," Kennedy said, closing her eyes for a moment. "I just don't feel too well." Moving to the door, she unlocked it and opened it slowly. Willow inched inside of the room and then closed and locked the door again.

"You don't look so good," she commented concernedly.

"I feel kinda sick," Kennedy admitted, letting the flirtatious and sarcastic comments that immediately sprang to mind pass.

"Sit down," Willow instructed. She took a couple of towels and placed them on the floor for Kennedy to sit on. Then she ran a washcloth under the faucet and knelt down in front of the Potential. Gingerly pressing the cool cloth against her head, she said, "That feel better?"

"Yeah," Kennedy murmured. She gazed deeply into the witch's green eyes. She felt at peace around Willow, content. Her mind slowed and the images stopped altogether. She still remembered them, but they weren't pummeling her as before, they weren't rushing unbidden through her consciousness.

"What happened in the basement?" Willow asked. "Buffy told me that you touched the First. How could you do that?"

"I don't know," Kennedy replied truthfully.

"But you do know something," Willow supplied.

Kennedy laughed humorlessly. "Not what you think."

"So explain it to me then," Willow said as she continued to press the cool cloth against the girl's forehead.

"I think the easiest way for me to explain this is to just tell you something that you're going to have a hard time believing," Kennedy said, her voice low and rough with anxiety.

"Okay," Willow said. She removed the cloth and sat down in front of the Potential. Kennedy missed the contact, but she knew that now wasn't the time to bring up any feelings she might have for the redhead.

"Right now," Kennedy said, "at this very moment, sitting next to me, is a man named Eli."

Willow glanced around the bathroom. "Uh, Kenn?" She said. "There's no one in here but us."

"Maybe this is a bad idea," Eli said warily. Kennedy shook her head to silence him.

"No one that you can see," Kennedy corrected. "But I can see him. I've always been able to see him. For all I know, I'm the only person in the world who can. He's sitting right next to me, just as real as you. Only I can't touch him." Reaching out, she grasped Willow's hand lightly. "But I can touch you."

Willow glanced down at their joined hands, but didn't try to move away. "And you can touch the First."

Kennedy sighed in frustration, breaking the contact herself as she ran her hand through her dark hair. "Apparently," she said. "Look, I didn't go down there planning to touch the First. I didn't go down there even knowing I could. I thought the damn thing was incorporeal. But then it came up to me and it tried to reach through me and couldn't. That's when I realized that if it could touch me, I could touch it. So I tried," Kennedy explained and shrugged. "I didn't know what would happen if I did. Looking back on it now, I probably shouldn't have. I've always been a little impetuous." Her eyes darkened and she shuddered perceptibly.

"What did you see?" Willow asked, her curiosity overcoming her.

"Death," Kennedy said lowly. "Death, everywhere, just death."

"So you didn't know anything about the First," Willow concluded. "I believe you."

"That's nice," Kennedy commented dryly. "But I'm not so sure Buffy will."

"If I do, Buffy will," Willow replied confidently. A few moments of silence passed between them. "So this Eli guy that you see? He's here?"

"Yeah," Kennedy said. "He's usually around. He hangs out with me."

"Like an imaginary friend?" Willow asked tentatively.

Kennedy sighed angrily. "I'm not crazy. I'm not delusional. He's not some figment of my imagination that I invented to keep from being lonely or some shit like that. He's really here, okay?" Her voice rose at the end of her speech, causing Willow to flinch.

"Okay," she said placatingly. "I'm sorry."

"No," Kennedy said. "I'm sorry. I don't want to yell at you. But this is exactly why I never told anyone about me. I knew that whoever I told would look at me just like you are now."

Willow ducked her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "So you see dead people?"

"I know," Kennedy chuckled. "Very cliché, isn't it? But yeah, I see dead people. Everywhere I go, I see them. But I don't just see dead people. I see death too."

Willow's head snapped up at her words. "What do you mean you see death? What does it look like?" She asked.

"A black mist," Kennedy whispered. "It just sort of envelops people. I saw it take my Watcher."

"I'm sorry," Willow said. This time, she reached out and took Kennedy's hand. "How long have you been seeing these things?" She asked.

"I don't know," Kennedy said, her brow furrowing as she thought. "I guess maybe I've always seen them. But I just didn't know what I was seeing. The first spirit I remember meeting is Eli. I met him the day after my Watcher came to tell me about my supposedly grand destiny."

"Learning about your destiny gave you the vocabulary to identify the things you saw," Willow surmised.

"I guess," Kennedy said, smiling at how smart the witch was.

"What?" Willow asked self-consciously.

"Nothing," Kennedy said, shaking her head. "You're just really smart, you know?"

"Thanks," Willow mumbled, reddening again.

"Why do you always blush when I compliment you?" Kennedy asked, intrigued.

"I don't know," Willow replied. "I guess I'm not used to being complimented."

"How is that possible?" Kennedy asked. "You're beautiful."

Willow flushed again and Kennedy laughed. "You're beautiful too," she whispered, her eyes straying over the bronzed skin of the Potential. Kennedy smirked.

"Anything else you want to know?" She asked.

"What is it like, seeing death?" Willow asked.

Kennedy thought for a moment. "It makes you kinda cold," she said. "And it's terrifying. It's like nothing you've ever seen before and you don't want to look at it, but you have to. It just draws you in," she said, her voice distant. "You know," she added, "when I first started seeing the spirits, they weren't really aware of me. I mean, Eli was," she corrected herself, "but generally the others weren't. Now they are."

"What do you mean?" Willow questioned.

"It's like they all can see me now," Kennedy said, unconsciously shivering again. "They see me and see right down into my soul. It's not pleasant and they don't always look happy to see me either."

"And you see these things all of the time?" Willow asked, trying to sympathize with her at the horror of seeing the dead on a daily basis.

"Yeah," Kennedy whispered, gazing down at their still intertwined hands.

Willow reached up with her free hand and brushed a stray strand of hair from Kennedy's face. "I'm sorry," she said.

"It's not your fault," Kennedy replied, shaking her head.

"I know," Willow said and shrugged. "But I don't like seeing you in pain, or scared."

Kennedy smiled a little. "You don't?" She asked, looking up at Willow with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "And why is that?"

"Maybe because I like you," Willow replied.

"Oh yeah?" Kennedy asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Just a little," Willow joked.

"I think it's more than a little," Eli said, watching the interaction between the two women."

"Shut up," Kennedy said offhandedly. When she saw the confused look on Willow's face, she rolled her eyes. "I was talking to Eli just then."

"Oh," Willow said.

"I know," Kennedy replied, "it's a little weird."

Willow gave her a reassuring smile. "That's okay. I mean, the last time I checked, all of us were pretty weird."

"Do you think Buffy's gonna kill me?" Kennedy asked, hating the vulnerability that leaked into her voice.

"No," Willow said firmly. "She's pissed. But she'll get over it."

Kennedy nodded. She rose to her feet, Willow helping to balance her. "I think I'm ready to go out now."

"Good," Willow said, smiling. "And don't worry. I've got your back." As Kennedy opened the bathroom door, Willow placed her hand on the small of the Potential's back to reinforce her point. The touch threw tingles down her spine. Though Buffy gazed at her with open suspicion and a bit of fury in her eyes when they exited the bathroom, Kennedy had never felt more confident.


	9. To the Tower of Memory

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Nine: To the Tower of Memory:

Discordant voices crashed over her, jarring her from the peaceful haze of unconsciousness and thrusting her back into the bright, harsh glare of daylight and reality. Blinking, Faith found herself staring up at a white ceiling. Sunlight streamed in through the window next to her, bathing her in a noontime wash of warmth. She couldn't remember where she was, or why she was lying down, or whose white ceiling she was staring at, but she felt relaxed. That is, she felt relaxed until she tried to shift her weight and an unbearable pain ripped through her side. Tears pricked at her eyes and she squeezed them closed, gritting her teeth to keep herself from screaming.

When she opened her eyes again, her mother was leaning over her. "Now, honey," she said, in her thick, Boston drawl, "looks like you went and got yourself all banged up."

Faith stared at her confusedly for several long moments. Her mother was dead; she had been dead for many years. Yet, the woman leaning over her with a cigarette dangling out of her mouth looked exactly like her mother. The same dark, loose strands hung limply from her head, the same dark, dull eyes stared down at her, and the same hollow, emaciated expression lingered in her sunken cheeks. Faith's eyes drifted down to the woman's arms and she saw familiar sickly purple lines running from her veins. When her eyes made the rounds back up to her face, she whispered, "Mom?"

"Who the hell you think I was?" Her mother answered, putting her hands on her hips. "Damn, kid," she muttered, shaking her head. "You run off and forget about me or something? I should slap you for that." Faith couldn't tell if she was angry or joking. The pain that had flooded her mind had also dulled her senses. She wanted to sleep again. Her eyes started to drift closed. "Faith!" Her mother yelled, jolting her awake again.

"What?" She asked grumpily. "Leave me alone. I'm tired."

"God, you're so fuckin' lazy. Couldn't ever get up and do nothin'. Not even for your own damn mother. How many times I tell you to go buy some fuckin' cigarettes and you wandered off, huh?"

Faith shook her head and wearily rubbed her eyes. "What are you even doing here? You're dead," she muttered. Somewhere in her mind, something sparked, reminding her of something important that she was supposed to know, something relevant to the conversation she was having.

"Dead, huh?" Her mother snorted. "Well, if I'm dead, it's because of you."

"How do you figure that?" Faith shot back angrily. She wanted to sit up, but she couldn't move. The pain was too intense. She hated the control her mother had in standing over her, staring down at her and mocking her with her cloudy eyes.

"Shit, I wouldn't have started using if it weren't for you. You just cried all the fuckin' time. You know how hard it is to sleep with that shit. Waaaa, waaaa, all day, all night. Couldn't get no sleep. And you never made anything easy, Faith. No, kiddo, you never made _anything_ easy."

"Wait," Faith said slowly, "so you're saying you are dead?'

"Of course I'm dead, you dumb shit," her mother said and grinned down at her. She reached down to touch the side of Faith's face, but her hand passed through her skin. Faith's body went numb, coldness seeping into every pore, and she started to panic. Suddenly, she remembered everything. She remembered walking some kid named Kate to Buffy's house. She remembered being attacked by a vampire stronger than any vampire she had ever encountered. She remembered it pummeling her; she remembered believing that she was going to die, almost resigning herself to the fact, yet still unable to bear all of the things she hadn't done or felt or experienced in her life. Then she remembered the First Evil. Her eyes widened. Her mother started laughing. Leaning down, she whispered, "Remember Faith, I know your secret."

Faith screamed. She hadn't meant to, she wasn't really the screaming type. But something about the situation brought the sound out of her. Her dead mother was leaning over her taunting her and she felt like she was five years old again, locked in the closet, waiting for her mother to calm down after some rampage that left her throwing things about the apartment. The doors of the living room burst open, her mother disappeared, and Buffy ran in. The rest of the group filed in behind her, everyone looking tense, everyone taut against attack. Kennedy lingered last in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. Willow glanced back at her and smiled, but Kennedy's eyes were focused on the dazed Slayer lying on the couch.

"Faith?" Buffy asked, glancing wildly about, her stance defensive. "What is it? You okay?" Despite the way she felt about the dark haired Slayer, which even Buffy herself couldn't quite figure out, she felt protective of the injured woman.

Faith was breathing too hard to answer. Though the image of her mother was gone, Faith could feel every burn, every bruise, every cut her mother had ever inflicted on her as if they were fresh. Buffy moved over to her, concern dancing her eyes despite her wariness of the dark haired Slayer. Leaning down next to Faith, she instinctively took the younger girl's hand. "Faith?" She asked.

Faith glanced sharply over at Buffy. For a moment, she didn't seem to recognize the older girl. Then she relaxed. "B," she whispered, relief flowing through her.

"What happened?" Buffy asked.

"My mom," Faith said, her voice breaking a little as she spoke.

"Your mom?" Buffy asked in confusion.

"Yeah," Faith replied, "she paid me a little visit."

"The First," Giles said with frustration. Wiping off his glasses, he began furiously cleaning them on his shirt.

"This is ridiculous," Dawn said. "How can it just come in here? And how are we supposed to fight it if it can go wherever it wants?"

"I don't know," Buffy replied sharply, glancing back at her sister. When she looked back at Faith, she noticed that their hands were still joined and she pulled away. Faith didn't look so helpless anymore, with the color returning to her cheeks. The desire to protect her vanished, replaced by the desire to do something intensely irrational or violent.

"I heard voices," Faith said, trying not to feel disappointed at the sudden lack of contact between her and the blonde Slayer. "As I was waking up. People were yelling. What's going on?"

"You missed a lot while you were asleep," Xander commented dryly, though his voice withheld judgment. Despite Buffy's suspicions of Kennedy, he didn't feel as though the younger girl posed any threat to them. What Buffy couldn't see, but what he saw etched all over the Potential's face, was unspeakable terror at even the mention of the First Evil.

"Like what?" Faith prodded. Giles moved over to her and gently helped her into a sitting position. She winced, but smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Are you feeling alright?" Giles asked, his voice sounding oddly fatherly to her ears. "Do you need anything?"

"Glass of water?" Faith asked, hating rough vulnerability in her voice.

"I'll get it," Dawn volunteered.

"Don't worry," Faith added. "I'll be right as rain in a few days."

"Right as rain?" Xander questioned jokingly.

Faith groaned. "Been watching too many old movies," she explained. "Anyway, makin' with all the yelling, what's the deal?"

"Apparently, one of our Potentials has the ability to see death," Giles explained.

"Really?" Faith murmured. "Wicked cool."

"Not really," Kennedy commented.

Faith shifted her eyes to the dark haired girl. "I take it you're the oh-so-special one?"

"Yeah," the Potential nodded.

"So what's the problem?" Faith asked.

"It's not just that she can see death," Buffy said, rising to her feet. "She can also see ghosts."

"Which she happens to talk to on a regular basis," Anya added.

"And she can touch the First," Xander concluded.

"I thought it was incorporeal?" Faith questioned. Dawn came back with the glass of water and sat it down in front of Faith. Smiling her thanks, Faith picked it up and took a long drink from it.

"It is," Kennedy said, her voice rising in frustration. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I didn't know I could do that. And I'm not crazy. I can really see death. And yes, I talk to spirits," she said, turning to Anya, "but is that any weirder than being a vengeance demon?"

"Valid point," Anya agreed. "Although, I don't talk to myself."

"I don't talk to myself either," Kennedy shot back irritably.

"How do I know you aren't some agent of the First?" Buffy asked. "How do I know you aren't trying to infiltrate us? How do I know that the First didn't do something to you when you touched it?" Buffy glanced down at Faith and saw the dark haired girl's immediate desire to rush to the aid of the Potential. She didn't quite understand it. Perhaps Faith felt connected to Kennedy because of their now shared history of being singled out as traitors in the group. But Buffy didn't like it, nor did she like the feelings of jealousy that the simple action of Faith's muscles tensing at Buffy's accusations caused with her.

"I'm not working with the First!" Kennedy yelled. "The First killed my Watcher; do you honest think I'd be paling around with it? Shit," she muttered. "I came here because Giles told me that I would be safe with you. But if you don't want me here, maybe I should just go," she said resignedly.

"Maybe that's a good idea," Buffy shot back, moving away from Faith and crossing her arms. Suddenly this wasn't about Kennedy anymore. Suddenly it was about Faith and Buffy's desire for her to leave and her desire for her to stay, neither of which made any sense.

"Hey!" Willow shouted, effectively silencing everyone else. "Kennedy's not going anywhere."

"Why not?" Buffy asked boldly. "Because you think you might have a thing for her?"

Willow reddened, but anger, rather than embarrassment. "Firstly," she said, desperately trying to control her voice, "whatever feelings I may or may not have for Kennedy are not up for debate. Secondly, don't you dare question who I choose to be with, you of all people don't have the right," she stated. Buffy tried to interrupt, but she held up her hand. "I'm not done yet." Pausing, she continued. "Kennedy is telling you the truth. She's not working for the First. In fact, she might have learned something useful when she touched it."

"No offense Will," Buffy said sarcastically, "but I don't exactly trust your judgment of her. You're a little biased."

"She's telling the truth, B," Faith said quietly.

Buffy spun around to face the dark haired Slayer. "Oh, and how would you know that?" She asked, unleashing her anger on its proper source.

"Pretty good at lying," Faith replied. "Been doing it all my life. I know when someone's trying to pull shit and this girl ain't."

"Thanks," Kennedy said softly.

"No problem," Faith replied. She didn't really know the dark haired Potential, but she liked her. Something in her rebellious spirit reminded her of herself, only a better version of herself, one less likely to dive off a cliff she couldn't climb back up.

"Willow's right," Dawn added. "Kennedy apparently saw a lot when she was connected, or however you want to put it with the First. She explained all of that to us while you were back there yelling at her. Maybe she can't organize all of those images now, but if she can, she might remember something helpful."

"And what if the First did something to her?" Buffy asked. "Are we just supposed to sit around and wait for her to snap on us?"

"I'll watch her," Willow said. Buffy snickered and Willow shot her a deadly glare.

"I don't need to be babysat," Kennedy grumbled.

"I'm not suggesting that," Willow said reassuringly, laying a hand on her arm. "I just mean that I'll watch you to make sure you don't start acting weird, like 'First-Evil-got-into-my-head' weird."

"Besides," Xander joked, poking Kennedy in the ribs, "if Will's watching over you, you're gonna get to spend lots of quality time with her."

"Shut up, Xander," Willow replied a little too quickly.

"I don't like this," Buffy said.

"Noted," Giles replied. "But there's going to be a lot of strangers coming into this house if more Watchers start sending their Potentials here to be protected. No doubt some will go to the Council headquarters in London instead, but others, like Kate here," he said, nodding over to newest Potential, "will come because their Watchers will have instructed them to do so. Like it or not, you can't be wary of every person who crosses the door."

Buffy sighed. She could feel Faith boring holes into the back of her head. She knew that she was being unreasonably difficult with Kennedy. She knew she shouldn't have pointed out Willow's budding feelings for the girl. But having Faith so close to her made her feel manic. She didn't know what to do with herself, or what to say. Lashing out at everyone around her seemed to be the only way to calm the conflicting emotions raging inside of her. "Maybe you're right," she finally acquiesced. "I'm sorry, Kennedy," she said. "I hope you understand that I can't just blindly trust everyone who says they're on the side of good. I have to protect my family."

"I get it," Kennedy said. "But I'm not a threat to you."

"Alright," Buffy replied. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair. "Tomorrow we'll figure out how to go about fighting the First. We need to come up with training schedules or something for the girls."

"Uh, B?" Faith asked. "What am I supposed to be doing during all of this? I mean, last time I checked, you didn't want me anywhere near this house."

"Yeah, but then you got your ass handed to you," Buffy reminded her in a not-too-delicate tone. "I don't want to have to be watching your back all day, so you'll be staying here from now on."

"Okay," Faith replied, choosing to ignore Buffy's baited words.

Buffy arched an eyebrow at Faith's show of restraint, but said nothing. "So are we all done yelling at each other now?" Anya asked.

"Yes," Buffy replied. "We're all done."

"Good," Dawn said. "I'm making sandwiches. Who wants one?" Staring at the sea of hands, she shook her head. "You know what, never mind. I'll just make a stack."

As Buffy left the room, Giles went over to Faith to re-bandage her wounds. Molly, Annabelle, and Kate turned on the television and gathered in a circle around it, enjoying a few moments of peace, knowing that the next day would begin a journey that none of them had quite wanted to take. Grabbing Kennedy's hand, Willow led her upstairs. When they reached Willow's bedroom, the red haired witch shut the door behind them. "What's going on?" Kennedy asked.

"I'm sorry about all of that with Buffy," Willow said as she sat down on the bed. "She's just looking out for us."

"I know," Kennedy replied, sitting down next to the older girl. A moment of awkward silence passed between them. "Remind me why we're sitting on your bed again?"

"Oh," Willow said, blushing. "I wanted to try something with you."

Kennedy arched an eyebrow. "Oh yeah?"

"Nothing sexual," Willow mumbled. "Mind in the gutter, much? I wanted to try meditating with you," she elaborated.

"Meditating?" Kennedy asked warily.

"Yeah," Willow replied. "Here, give me your hands." Kennedy held out her hands and Willow slipped hers into them. "Now close your eyes." Kennedy complied. One moment, she was staring into Willow's face, the next darkness had overcome her. "Now," she heard Willow say, "relax your muscles." Kennedy sighed deeply and relaxed. The world started to fade away. "Go the place where you're most comfortable."

Kennedy's mind started to wander. She felt like she was drifting, disconnected from her body. Her mind strayed further and further from reality, clutching onto to a few words that Willow spoke, letting others pass. "Go to the place where you're most comfortable," she heard again.

She opened her eyes and found that she wasn't sitting on Willow's bed anymore. Instead, she was sitting in a library, her father's study. A fire roared in the fireplace next to her, casting the only light in the room. The fire reflected in the hard wood floors, dancing sensually. The walls were bookshelves filled with books. Some of them were ancient, their bindings giving off a musty scent that mingled with the rich aroma of her father's cigars. She was reclining on a red, upholstered sofa. A vase of plump, red roses sat on a deep mahogany table at her elbow. In a dark red, leather chair across from her, Eli sat. His elbows were resting on the armrests and his hands were folded in front of his chin. His eyes were closed, but a small smile curled his lips. "Are we comfortable yet?" He whispered a little mockingly.

Kennedy shifted her eyes from the spirit sitting across from her. In the chair next to him, Willow sat cross legged. Her hands were resting on her knees, her palms facing the ceiling. Her eyes were closed as well and her chest rose and fell in an easy pattern. Her lips were moving, but Kennedy couldn't hear the words. Just behind Willow, another woman stood, but Kennedy didn't know her. She had long, blonde hair and blue eyes. Her face held a radiance and friendliness to which Kennedy felt drawn. Her hands were resting on the back of Willow's chair. "I haven't been here in ages," Kennedy murmured, but the words seemed to flow slowly from her lips, falling off into eternity as she spoke them, crashing like waves on the beach of the eternal.

"Now," she heard Willow say. "Remember what you saw."

Then she was in the tower.


	10. The Spiraling Stairs

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Ten: The Spiraling Stairs:

From the couch, Faith was able to see the television just over the tops of the heads of the Potentials lying about the floor of the living room. Giles had re-bandaged her wounds and she was starting to feel stronger. The familiar childhood terrors that the First had conjured in her mind by appearing in the form of her mother had subsided, falling back to their usual place just out of reach, but always there. In another day or two, Faith would be back on her feet. But she didn't mind the precious hours of relaxation that her injury afforded her, nor did she mind that her injuries had opened Buffy's heart to allowing her to stay.

The Potentials had cartoons on the television. Faith watched the girls as they laughed and joked, occasionally throwing pillows at each other, occasionally mimicking the characters on the screen. The dark haired Slayer couldn't help but wonder what would happen to them. Would they all die? If some of them survived, how would they be? Would their experiences have changed them, made them lose that innocence Faith saw on display? "Hey," Dawn said, walking into the living room with a plate. A couple of sandwiches and some chips were piled on top of it. "Brought you this," she said, handing it to Faith.

She struggled to sit up and accepted the food. "Thanks," she replied.

"Sure," Dawn said. She lingered for a moment, looking down at the woman who had once caused so much trouble for her family and friends. She didn't see anything left of the dangerous, reckless passion that once had ruled Faith. In her eyes now reigned a calm, perhaps enforced, but there no less. Buffy couldn't see that Faith was different; she couldn't see many things. But Dawn could.

"Can I do something for ya, D?" Faith asked in between bites, when she noticed that Dawn was still standing there.

"Why did you come here?" Dawn asked, sitting down on the chair next to her.

Faith forcibly swallowed and put down the food. She had known that she would have to explain herself to the Scoobies, but she didn't know if she could find the right words. "Angel sent me," she said finally.

"Angel," Dawn repeated, more to herself than for Faith's benefit. "To help us?"

"Yeah," Faith replied. "Last time I checked, Angel wasn't trying to take you guys down."

Dawn snorted a laugh and nodded. "Good point."

"Look, D," Faith said, "I know I messed up pretty badly back in the day." Dawn nodded, but didn't interrupt. "I don't really know how to explain myself, except to say that I was in a dark place, a jealous place, and I didn't know how to get out of it."

Dawn sat silently for several moments. The ringing laughter of the characters on the television screen, their high-pitched animated voices, contrasted starkly to the mood between the two women. "I forgive you, Faith," she finally replied.

"What?" Faith asked, looking up at her sharply.

"I forgive you," Dawn repeated.

"Um, why?" Faith asked in disbelief. She knew that Dawn had taken her betrayal of the group badly. Dawn had idolized Faith as a young girl and Faith knew that her disillusionment at watching that idol drown in darkness and malice was too much for her to bear.

"Back then," Dawn explained, "I felt like you had betrayed me personally. You know, like you weren't my friend anymore, you were this enemy that we were supposed to fight. But I didn't want to fight you. I liked you. I couldn't see then why you did the things you did. I was too wrapped up in my own stuff, but I was too young to understand anyway," Dawn explained. "Now I think I do."

"Yeah?" Faith asked.

"Darkness doesn't exclusively belong to you, Faith," Dawn replied. "Everyone has it. Look at Willow," she said, sighing. "I never would have thought that Willow of all people would try to destroy the world, but she did." Faith nodded, she had heard of Willow's troubles through Angel. "She was the most innocent, good person I can think of. But things just happen. Now she's working through it. And I can see that you're working through it too."

"I am," Faith acknowledged.

"Is it hard?" Dawn asked.

"Oh yeah," Faith replied, laughing a little as she stared down at her hands. There was a time not that long ago when Faith still would have seen imaginary blood staining her skin. Now she didn't. But she knew that it was still there. "It's hard. But you just deal, because you know what it's like when you lose control, and you don't want to go back there."

"Sometimes I feel like none of us really know how to relate to Willow," Dawn revealed. "We all try to act like it was before, but I think that makes her feel even more lonely."

Faith smiled a little. "I think she knows that you guys are here for her."

Dawn nodded. "Well, I can't speak for the others, but I'm here for you too, okay?" She said.

"Thanks," Faith replied, surprised. "I appreciate that."

"Sure," Dawn said, rising to her feet. "You need anything else?" She asked.

"No," Faith replied, picking up the sandwich. "I'm good."

"Okay," Dawn said, turning to leave. "Oh," she added, glancing back over her shoulder, "and Faith? Just give Buffy some time, she'll come around."

"Yeah," Faith snorted into her sandwich. "Sure."

Dawn smiled knowingly. "Like I said before, Faith," she replied, "Buffy doesn't see a whole lot. But I do."

………………………

"Now," Kennedy heard Willow say. "Remember what you saw."

Then she was in the tower. The first thing that she noticed was the musty scent of incense burning. Torches lined the walls, spreading a rich, amber glow. Ahead of her, a stone staircase wound in a perpetual circle. To her left and right stood heavy wooden doors. "Where am I?" She asked aloud, not expecting an answer.

She jumped when a voice replied, "You're in the tower of memory."

Turning on her heel, Kennedy saw the same blonde woman who had been standing behind Willow's chair only a few moments ago in the study. She wore a pale blue dress. One black ring adorned her left hand; one white ring adorned her right. "Who are you?" Kennedy demanded.

"That doesn't matter," she said kindly, but firmly. "I'm your guide."

"My guide to what?" Kennedy asked and the woman raised her hand. Kennedy followed its path with her eyes to the door on her right. "I should open it?" She asked.

"Yes," the woman replied. Kennedy hesitated. "Don't worry," she added, "there's nothing in there that can harm you."

"Okay," Kennedy replied. Moving over to the door, she pushed it open. It creaked on its hinges. The door revealed a long hallway lined with opened windows. White, thin drapes blew in the breeze. She faintly heard someone counting.

"Eight, nine," the voice said. Then she heard a child's laughter and, a moment later, a little girl with dark hair ran by the door.

"Oh my God," Kennedy murmured, her eyes widening. "That's me."

"Yes, it is," the woman standing behind her whispered.

The girl ran to the end of the hallway and opened another door. When she disappeared through it, another little girl, slightly older ran into view. "That's my half sister," Kennedy explained. She smiled, suddenly remembering what she was seeing. "That's the spring she came to stay with us for the first time, just after my father and step-mother got married. We were playing hide and go seek. We played that all the time," Kennedy said, her voice saddening. "I haven't spoken to her in a while."

"Come on," the woman urged, closing the door. "We have more to see." She pointed to the other door.

Kennedy walked over to it and opened it. She saw herself, even younger, standing in an airport. Her mother was standing next to her, holding a suitcase. The older woman kneeled down and took the girl's face between her hands. "Listen to me, mi querido, I have to go away now," she said, "but I'll always love you. You hear me? I'll always love you."

Kennedy slammed the door shut, tears streaming silently down her face. "When was that?" The woman behind her asked.

"When my mother left," she replied. "These memories aren't in order," she noted.

The woman smiled a little. "No, I think you'll find that they aren't. In fact, what you're going to see isn't just memory."

"What do you mean?" Kennedy asked.

"Everything that will ever happen has already happened many times before," she explained. "Everything there is to know, you already know. In your mind," she said, brushing a strand of Kennedy's hair from her face, "is the entirety of the world."

"I don't understand," Kennedy replied, staring into her blue eyes. She felt safe with this woman, but she didn't know why. She was a stranger.

"You will," the woman promised. Then she pointed to the stairs.

Kennedy nodded and started climbing them, spiraling into the uppermost reaches of the tower until she alighted on another landing. There were two more doors. She opened the one to her left first. It revealed a bedroom. Kennedy recognized it as the room she lived in at her father's house. The sheets were strewn off the bed and a teenage girl lay naked on top of the mattress. She moaned as another girl kneeling on the floor in front of her pleasured her with her tongue. Kennedy reddened and cleared her throat.

"Your first time?" The woman behind her asked with a knowing smile.

"Yeah," Kennedy replied, closing the door on her kneeling self. She moved to the door on the right. "Let's hope this one is less embarrassing." She opened the door and saw Willow leaning against the bureau in her bedroom. Kennedy saw a version of herself walked up to the red haired witch and put her hands on her hips. Willow leaned forward and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Kennedy looked over at the woman standing next to her, surprised to see sadness in her eyes. "Are you okay?" She asked.

"There's more to see," the woman said, closing the door herself.

"What am I supposed to be doing here?" Kennedy asked. "That hasn't even happened yet. The last time I checked, Willow and I hadn't kissed. And I doubt Willow was the one to initiate it."

"The past is the future, the future is the past," the woman replied enigmatically.

"That doesn't make any sense," Kennedy grumbled.

"Look closely," the woman advised. "You might see something that will help you."

"Fine," Kennedy said. She glanced at the staircase as it continued to wind up the tower. "How high does it go?"

"It never stops," the woman said softly.

"How far do I have to climb?" Kennedy asked, glancing over at her worriedly.

"Until you've seen what you have to see," she replied.

Kennedy started climbing. The atmosphere in the tower was starting to become unbearable. The smell of incense crowded her senses, making her head feel faint. The torches burned brightly and hotly. Beads of sweat dotted her brow as she climbed. Finally, she reached another landing. "What am I going to see here?" She asked breathlessly, glancing back at the woman following silently behind her.

She shrugged. "They're your memories," she replied. "I'm just here to make sure you see."

"Oh, I can see," Kennedy shot back. "A little too much," she added.

"Open the next door," the woman instructed.

Kennedy moved forward and grasped the handle. It felt hot to the touch. "I don't think I want to," she replied, her brow furrowing. "I don't think I'm going to like what's on the other side of this."

The woman walked up to her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Open the door," she said again.

Kennedy pushed it open. She recognized the basement of Sunnydale high school, but it looked drastically different. The room into which she gazed was alive with flames. She heard screaming. Part of the roof collapsed. Lying amid the smoke, she saw Faith, the dark haired Slayer, in a crumpled, bloody heap. "Is she alive?" She asked, looking over at the woman.

"I don't know," she replied. "Is she?"

Kennedy thought for a moment. "I think so," she answered. "But she won't be for long."

She closed the door and moved to the next. "Why can I see these things?" She asked.

"You connected with a power much greater than yourself," the woman answered.

"The First," Kennedy assumed. She spun to face the woman. "Are you the First?"

"No," she answered patiently.

"That's right," Kennedy said, sighing a little. "You're not. You don't have that black mist where your heart should be." Reaching back, she opened the next door and looked inside. She saw herself standing in the living room of Buffy's house. Girls she didn't recognize were lying dead on the floor. She was fighting with three Bringers, but she was losing. Before she closed the door, she saw one of them bury a knife in her gut.

"There's still more," the woman replied, seeing the sickened and weary look on Kennedy's face.

"I don't know how much of this I can stand to see," she replied. "All of this will happen?" She asked.

The woman nodded. "It already has."

"So we can't really change anything," Kennedy replied. "It's all just set in stone. Fate," she muttered scornfully.

The woman remained silent. Kennedy sighed in frustration and continued walking up the stairs. She didn't hear the woman say, "Everything has already happened, again and again, in a thousand different ways."

She reached the next landing hot and irritated. Without ceremony, she threw open the first door. She saw Xander, Willow, Anya, and the blonde woman, who was standing behind her in the tower, seated in a circle in the cemetery. Kennedy glanced back at her and raised an eyebrow. The woman shrugged, but smiled. "You knew them?"

"I did," she acknowledged.

"What are you doing?" Kennedy asked. She heard Willow begin to chant.

"Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us," the witch murmured.

"What is this?" Kennedy asked.

"The night we brought Buffy back to life," the woman answered.

"But how am I seeing this? I wasn't even there," Kennedy questioned.

"No," the woman replied, "you weren't. But the First was."

Kennedy closed the door and moved over to the next. When she opened it, she was looking out over an expansive cavern. Far below her, on the ground, thousands of Turokan vampires stood, their fists in the air, their bloodied fangs gleaming faintly. Kennedy shuddered and threw the door closed. "Is that what we're up against?" She asked.

"Yes," the woman replied.

Kennedy continued climbing. She felt like she had been walking forever. Her legs dragged as she forced herself up the stairs. "I thought meditation was supposed to be relaxing," she grumbled. She heard the woman laugh softly behind her. "So you were friends with Buffy and Willow?" She asked.

"I was," the woman replied.

"But you won't tell me your name," Kennedy stated.

"I don't have a name. Not anymore. In death, you lose all things that connect you to that world. You transcend," the woman explained.

"So what are you called now?" Kennedy asked.

"I'm your guide," the woman answered. "That's all."

Kennedy nodded. Just when she thought her lungs would explode, she reached the next landing. There were three doors instead of two. She paused for a moment to catch her breath. "We're not going to beat the First so easily, are we?" She asked.

"I don't think so," the woman answered sadly.

"That was a lot of vampires," Kennedy stated, more to herself than to the woman with her. "How can we fight them all?"

"The time will come," the woman replied, "for the greatest fight of all."

Kennedy breathed in deeply and exhaled. Then she moved over to the next door. Swinging open the door, she found herself gazing into a church. A priest was kneeling in front of the cross. Beside him knelt a teenage girl. "I'm so dirty," Kennedy heard her say. "Can you make me clean again?" The girl looked over at the priest. When he turned to smile at her, Kennedy saw his face.

"I think I can, my child," he replied. He withdrew a knife and held it up. It glimmered in the candlelight. "Be still," he said and shoved the knife into the girl's chest.

Kennedy closed the door. "I thought priests were supposed to be good," she said, disgust dripping in her voice.

"Not all," the woman said.

Kennedy moved to the next door. When she opened it, she saw Buffy's living room again. The same dead Potentials were lying on the floor. The knife was sticking out of her abdomen. Blood poured over her fingers as she clutched the wound. But when she looked up, her eyes glowed with a yellow light for a brief instant. A rush of wind came through the tower and blew the door shut. Kennedy stared at it for a moment, trying to process what she had seen. She opened her mouth to ask the woman behind her what that yellow light was, but closed it, knowing that she wouldn't answer, and, if she did, she would only answer in riddles.

Kennedy moved over to the third door. Gripping the doorknob, she pushed it open. What she saw made her gasp. An empty street was laid out before her. It was night time and the streetlamps were on. Her eyes were drawn to the lone figure revealed in the scene. It was her, or another version of herself. She saw her body hanging from a light pole, swaying in the breeze. Then the door slammed shut.

Kennedy awoke with a start, snapped out of her meditative state by Willow insistently shaking her. "Kennedy!" Willow said urgently, her voice laced with concern. "Kennedy, snap out of it!"

"What?" Kennedy asked dazedly. She was lying down, no longer sitting beside Willow on the bed. Willow's worried eyes and Giles' equally worried eyes peered down at her. "What happened?"

"I don't know," Willow replied. "One minute we were meditating, the next you were having a seizure or something."

"Really?" Kennedy asked, moving into a sitting position. She saw Eli trying to catch a glimpse of her over Giles' shoulder.

"Yeah, really," he said. "You okay?"

"Are you feeling alright now?" Giles asked.

"I'm fine," Kennedy replied, running a hand through her hair. "Sorry," she said, looking at Willow. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I don't know what happened."

"Neither do I," Willow said.

"What did you see?" Giles asked curiously. "Willow was trying to direct you to access your memories, correct? To see if you could recall anything from your connection with the First."

Kennedy's mind was blank for a moment before memories of her experience in the tower with the blonde woman rushed back into her consciousness. She was about to reply when she saw a photograph sitting on Willow bureau. In the photo, the blonde woman from the tower stood next to Willow, her arm wrapped around the red head's waist. "Who is she?" Kennedy asked, gazing at the photograph.

Willow looked over at it, her eyes pained for a moment. "That's Tara," she replied.

Without taking her eyes from the picture, Kennedy asked, "And who is Tara?"

"Tara was my girlfriend," Willow explained. "She died a little while ago."

Kennedy looked over at her. "Really?" She asked.

"Yeah, why?" Willow questioned.

Kennedy looked back at the photograph. "No reason," she said, though she didn't know why she lied. Eli looked over at her with narrowed eyes.

"You're lying," he said. "How do you know that girl?"

Kennedy ignored him. "I'm not really sure what I saw," she said, answering Giles' previous question. "There was a lot. I saw vampires," she said, struggling to sort through the images of death and violence that she had seen in the tower. "Lots of vampires." But the vampires weren't the image that haunted the most. No, what haunted her most was the gentle creaking of her body swaying in the moonlight.


	11. Bells Swinging in the Dark

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter 11: Bells Swinging in the Dark:

"I really appreciate this, B," Faith ground between her teeth. Her arm was slung over the older Slayer's shoulder as she and Buffy slowly made their way up the stairs.

"Giles didn't think you should sleep on the couch again tonight," Buffy replied shortly. Neither did she, but she couldn't say that. She knew that Faith was uncomfortable on the couch, but she couldn't bring herself to suggest anything to ease that pain – a pain which part of her believed Faith deserved.

Faith snorted. Pain flared all through her side. Her nerve endings burned. But she didn't know if that was because of her close proximity to the blonde Slayer or because of her wounds. She wanted to scream to release the tension, but she restrained herself. She couldn't let Buffy know that she was suffering; she had too much pride. "Then thank Giles for me," she retorted just as shortly.

"I will," Buffy shot back. All of her muscles were tense. She could smell Faith's musky scent, like a mixture of cinnamon and cigarette smoke. It drove her crazy. She wanted nothing more than to scream, or run, or beat something until her hands were bloodied to release the tension. She glanced over at Faith and saw a small trickle of sweat inch slowly down the side of her face. The dark haired Slayer seemed to be concentrating fiercely on walking up the stairs. Buffy didn't know that she was really just trying to forget how close they were.

"Which bed am I sleeping in?" Faith asked. She knew it wouldn't be Buffy's, but she couldn't help but hope.

"Dawn's," Buffy replied. Faith arched an eyebrow in surprise and Buffy shrugged, which caused Faith to lose her balance and hit her ribs into the wall.

Groaning in pain, she stopped walking. "Careful, B," she replied breathlessly.

"I'm sorry," Buffy said sarcastically, to hide her concern, "is the big, bad Slayer uncomfortable?"

"Yes," Faith shot back angrily. "The big, bad Slayer is really fuckin' uncomfortable. I got my ass handed to me by a super vamp. So, if you wouldn't terribly mind, slow the fuck down and stop jostling me." She opted for honesty. The tango she and Buffy were dancing was starting to make her dizzy.

Buffy bit her tongue and didn't reply. The Faith she had known would have never admitted any weakness. Though Buffy didn't want to admit it to herself, perhaps the younger girl really had changed. It was easier for Buffy to view Faith in the same way as she always had, as an irresponsible killer. If she admitted that Faith really was responsible and mature now, she would have to acknowledge that nothing stood in the way of her acting on her feelings for the dark haired girl. She wasn't ready for that yet. "Dawn is going to sleep on the floor in a sleeping bag," Buffy continued. "In case you need anything."

"That's nice of her," Faith said, truly meaning it. She hadn't expected such hospitality from Dawn. The landing was only a few steps away. Dawn was standing at the top of the stairs, watching their slow progression with worry and fear. Faith almost laughed. She knew that Dawn was afraid she and Buffy might have it out on the stairs. But Faith was done fighting with the blonde girl.

"You guys okay?" Dawn asked nervously.

"Five by five, D," Faith replied as they reached the top of the stairs. Buffy disengaged herself from Faith as the younger Slayer leaned against the wall to catch her breath.

"Can you take over from here, Dawn?" Buffy asked, fidgeting with her hands. Dawn looked over at her curiously. Her sister couldn't stand still.

"Sure," Dawn replied. Buffy bolted down the stairs. "Where's the fire?" She mumbled under her breath. Turning, she smiled at Faith and looped her arm around her waist. "Ready?" She asked supportively.

Faith nodded and slung her arm around the younger Summers' shoulder. "Only a few more feet, right?" She asked. "Can't be that hard."

…………………………

The vineyard was a lovely place to hide. The aroma of wine had soaked into everything. It was dark, warm, and cozy. The sound of Bringers working tirelessly to expand the grounds underneath, and to hide the Scythe, greeted the First's ears like the tinkle of fairy bells. The First, wearing the face of Buffy Summers, watched her newest acquisition order around the blind monks. Caleb was something else. The First smiled. "Come here, Caleb," it said, flicking its golden blonde hair over its shoulder. "I have something for you to do."

The First didn't show any weakness or any fear. It was the indomitable presence of evil in the world. Yet, it still felt those things, especially now, with the girl who could see so close. The Potential would be a problem. The First didn't know how much she had seen when they had touched. Perhaps she had seen nothing that would hinder the rising of the vampire army. Perhaps she had seen more than enough to stop them. The First wasn't going to wait to find out.

"Yes," Caleb asked, walking over to the First with his hands folded behind his back. "What can I do?"

"There's a girl," the First explained. "A Potential Slayer."

"You want me to kill her?" Caleb asked, grinning.

"I do," the First replied. "But not just because she's a Potential."

"Then why?" Caleb asked in confusion.

"This girl can see things that most people can't," the First explained. "And that's a problem for us. What do we do with problems?"

"We snuff them out," Caleb replied seriously.

"Yes," the First continued. "I don't just want you to kill this girl," it said. "I want you to make an example of her."

"How?" Caleb asked.

"I'm sure you'll think of something creative," the First smirked.

"What does she look like?" Caleb asked. The First moved closer, so that its hand rested just above Caleb's head.

"Close your eyes," it said. When Caleb closed his eyes a rush of images passed in front of his eyelids, all featuring a pretty, Latino girl with brown hair.

…………………………

"So, I'm sleeping with you, huh?" Kennedy asked, winking when Willow blushed a deep red that matched her hair.

"No," she replied quickly, "I mean, yes, but not like that."

"Why, Willow, whatever could you mean?" Kennedy asked innocently. "I was only asking if I was sleeping in your bedroom tonight."

"No, you weren't," Willow mumbled, but smiled. "And yes, you are sleeping in my room tonight. You and Annabelle."

"What about Kate and Molly?" Kennedy asked.

"They'll be in Dawn's room," Willow answered. "Spike in the basement. Xander and Anya in the living room. Giles is taking Buffy's bed. I'm not sure where she'll be."

"Everyone's afraid to leave, huh?" Kennedy asked softly.

Willow sighed and glanced out of the bedroom window. "Yeah," she replied. "Sunnydale is a dangerous place to begin with. Throw in a super vamp and you've got yourself twenty different reasons to stay in one place."

Kennedy eyed the two sleeping bags lying on the floor. "So," she said, smiling a little at Willow, "sure I can't argue my way into not sleeping on the floor?"

"Pretty sure," Willow said.

"Okay," Kennedy replied, throwing up her hands in defeat. "I can take a hint."

Willow laughed a little. Then concern flashed over her face. "Are you sure you're feeling better? You scared me this afternoon."

"I'm fine," Kennedy said dismissively. She noticed the worried look in Willow's eyes and moved over to her, touching her arm. "Hey, what is it?" She asked.

"Nothing," Willow replied, shaking her head. When Kennedy raised her eyebrows questioningly, she elaborated. "I just don't want anything to happen to you."

"Well, that's a step in the right direction," Kennedy replied, grinning.

Willow punched her lightly in the shoulder. "Is hooking up with me all you think about?" She asked.

"Usually food is at the top of the list," she joked, "but since I've already been fed tonight, yeah, hooking up with you is all I'm thinking about."

"Ha, ha," Willow shot back.

"Seriously," Kennedy said, "I'm fine. Nothing's going to happen."

"You say that now," Willow replied sadly.

Kennedy leaned against the bureau, watching Willow fidget with the hem of her shirt. "What is this really about?" She asked.

"My last girlfriend," Willow said, nodding toward the picture of Tara that was sitting next to Kennedy, "she was killed."

"I'm sorry," Kennedy said sincerely. "How did she die?"

"She was shot," Willow said, her eyes clouding darkly with tears.

"Demon related?" Kennedy asked.

"Sort of," Willow answered. "Let's just say I'm a little bit more than worried about something similar happening to anyone I chose to get involved with."

Kennedy nodded. "I can't guarantee that nothing bad will happen to me," she said slowly. "After all, I am a Potential Slayer. People like me are dying all over the world. But I'm not reckless," she said, looking over at Willow. "I know what I can do and I know what I can't."

Willow sighed and leaned next to Kennedy on the bureau. "I'll never forget about her," she said.

"I don't want you to," Kennedy replied. She looked over at the picture, remembering how friendly and reassuring the blonde woman had been in her vision of the tower, despite what little information she could give. "I'm sure Tara was a wonderful person."

"She was," Willow said softly.

"Can I ask you a question?" Kennedy replied. Willow nodded. "Can I kiss you?"

Willow looked over at her nervously for a few moments before slowly nodding again. Turning, Kennedy faced the red haired witch. Gently brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, she leaned in. Their lips met softly, tentatively. Before Kennedy could even think about deepening the kiss, the bedroom door opened and Annabelle walked in, drying her hair on a towel and humming to herself. Willow jumped back and nearly fell over in the process, but Annabelle hadn't noticed anything. Kennedy smirked to herself and shook on her head. "That wasn't so horrible, was it?" She quietly asked the witch.

Willow blushed again and touched her lips. "That was definitely of the good," she replied.

Though her mind wanted to replay the kiss all night, Kennedy found herself drifting to sleep in the sleeping bag later that evening when everyone had retired to bed. Willow was asleep, she knew by the sounds of even breathing drifting down to her from the bed. When she fell asleep, she was warm, comfortable, and happy. When she woke up, she knew that something was wrong. She heard screaming from down the hall. It was still dark outside. The moon was shining in the window. Feet were clomping up the stairs, seemingly endless rows of feet. She heard doors slamming. Then she heard the sounds of fighting. She heard Buffy yell something – something about getting back in the room and barricading the door.

Kennedy jumped to her feet. From underneath of the closed bedroom door, she could see the hallway light. Shadows were moving back and forth as people flooded the hallway. "Annabelle, get up!" Kennedy ordered in hushed tones. The sleepy Potential rubbed her eyes and sat up, panicking awakening her when she realized that something was wrong. "Willow?" Kennedy asked without looking back. She had heard the witch sit up in bed.

"What's going on?" Willow asked, walking over to the two standing Potentials.

"I don't know," Kennedy replied. "Do you have any weapons?"

"Yeah," Willow answered, moving quickly over to the closet door with Annabelle following behind her. Before she had time to open it, the bedroom door crashed in. Kennedy jumped back as shards of wood flew through the air. She was standing defensively in front of Willow and Annabelle, blocking them from the man that had entered the room. He was dressed like a preacher. Kennedy instantly recognized him from the tower of memory.

"Well, hello, little girl," he said when he saw Kennedy. "You'll do nicely."

Before Kennedy could reply, he grabbed her by the arm. He was stronger than a mortal man should have been and the pressure of his fingers bruising her flesh caused her to cry out. He dragged her from the room and out into the hallway. It had seemed to Willow that Kennedy had been standing in front of her, ready to protect her and the scared girl next to her, and a second later she was gone. Willow hadn't even had time to think of a spell to block the priest.

Kennedy fell to her knees in the hallway, but Caleb continued to drag her. Looking back, she saw Bringers trying to beat their way into Dawn's room, but the door was blocked by some furniture. As she reached the stairs, she saw Buffy staring at her from her bedroom door, torn between doing what she had to do to protect herself and Giles, and rushing back into the fray to save Kennedy. The Potential didn't know what Buffy's ultimate decision was. A second later, she being dragged down the stairs. "I got her!" She heard Caleb yell. "Let's go!"

As quickly as they had come, the Bringers rushed back down the stairs and out of the front door. As she was being dragged by the living room, she noticed that it was empty. The Bringers banging on the basement door weren't having anymore luck getting in than those who had been trying to access Dawn's room. Though she wasn't in a particularly fortunate position, she was relieved that the others seemed to be protected. Xander and Anya must have rushed into the basement with Spike when the front door burst open. However, while knowing that the others were safe provided her with a moment of comfort, that fact also drove home the realization that she had been Caleb's target, that now that he had her, they were leaving, and that the only person he had ever intended to harm was her.

Kennedy started fiercely kicking, trying to dislodge herself from Caleb's grasp, but he was too strong. He hauled her out onto the porch, down the stairs, into the grass, and out to the street. Gritting her teeth, she tried to ignore the pain of rocks ripping into her clothes and digging into her skin. Bringers had surrounded them. She and Caleb were in the middle of a circle of people, all half walking, half running toward something. When they were a few blocks from the house, the group slowed. The Bringers parted, allowing Caleb to walk forward. Kennedy looked up and blanched. In front of the group was a streetlamp. A rope had been fastened to it and the end of the rope had been formed into a noose.

"Let me go!" Kennedy said, kicking again. Her heart started pounding. She knew exactly what was going to happen.

"I'm sorry," Caleb replied, lifting her by her hair and looping the noose around her neck. "But I can't do that."

The rope cut into her skin. Kennedy grabbed at it, trying to loosen it, but a Bringer stepped forward and grabbed her hands. He tied them behind her back. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw two other Bringers move around behind her. The rope stiffened and she knew that they had grabbed it. "Any last words before my boys here pull you up?" Caleb asked.

As Kennedy gazed into the crowd of hostile faces, she saw Eli running down the street. "Stop!" He yelled. "What are you doing? Let her go!" But no one heard him. No one but Kennedy. A tear traced down his cheek. "Please! You can't do this!" He shouted until his voice was hoarse. He tried to grab the Bringers, he tried to grab Caleb, he tried to grab the rope around Kennedy's neck, but his hands passed through everything.

"It's okay," Kennedy said softly, tears streaming down her face when she saw the desperation in his eyes. "It's okay." Caleb stared down at her, wondering to whom she was talking.

"I can't lose you," Eli said, clawing at the rope that he couldn't touch. "You're all I have. I love you. You're my best friend. You're like my fucking sister. I can't lose you!"

Before Kennedy could respond the Bringers pulled the rope. She shot up into the air, the rope impossibly tight around her neck. She couldn't breathe. No matter how she struggled, she couldn't breathe. She heard Eli screaming and yelling beneath her. She heard the pops and hisses of bugs flying into the street lamp just above her head. But the last thing she heard before her heart sputtered and the world faded into nothingness was the chilling echo of Caleb's laughter.


	12. Breathe Me to Life

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter 12: Breathe Me to Life:

As a Slayer, Buffy had to be decisive. She couldn't waiver over how to handle situations in the field. When a vampire attacked, she had to know how to respond without even thinking. Slaying had become second nature to her. Sometimes she believed that she could slay in her sleep – that her body would react as it should without any help from her mind. She remembered late night patrols, back in the days when she was still a student at Sunnydale High School, that she could barely remember from being so exhausted. She couldn't recall very many occasions during which she hadn't known how to act. However, as she watched the tall man dressed as a priest drag Kennedy kicking and fighting down the hallway, a moment of indecision struck her.

Two courses clearly were spread before her. The course she knew to be correct, the one that made the most practical sense in the situation, was to step back into the bedroom, close and lock the door, and protect Giles. Out of the corner of her eye, she had seen Dawn throw the door shut and had heard the sound of furniture scraping across the floor. Her sister had taken the obvious path to safety, for which Buffy was grateful. She didn't know how Xander, Anya, Spike, Willow, or Annabelle were faring. But she was a Slayer; it was her job to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. The second course was the one she wanted to take. She wanted to step back into the hallway and fight her way to Kennedy. She wanted to save the Potential from what she knew would be a messy and painful death. She wanted to save whatever spark had caught fire between the dark haired girl and Willow. But if she stepped back into the hallway, she would leave Giles vulnerable. Though Kennedy was quickly becoming a member of the group, she loved Giles like a father. So she slammed the door shut and locked it.

Spike was the first one to realize what was truly happening. With his ear pressed to the basement door, he heard Caleb yell, "I got her! Let's go." A troubled look crossed his eyes. "Got who?" He asked, glancing back at Xander and Anya. They both looked terrified. Spike heard feet trampling down the stairs and realized that the Bringers were withdrawing. "Whatever…or whoever…they came for, they got," he said more to himself than the two trembling people behind him. Hastily moving aside the bookshelf he had thrown in front of the door, the pushed it open. The living room was empty.

"Spike," Anya hissed. "What are you doing? Get back in the basement!"

"Yeah," Xander chimed in. "Now might not be the best time to get heroic. We're seriously outnumbered."

"Shut up," Spike shot back. He couldn't hear anything. Moving into the living room, he peered cautiously into the foyer. It too was empty. The front door was hanging open. He glanced up the stairs, but saw no one. Climbing them two at a time, he reached Buffy's bedroom. "Buffy!" He shouted, knocking on the door. "Open up. They're gone."

The sound of furniture scraping against the floor like nails on a chalkboard greeted his ears and Buffy opened the door. "Really?" She asked, poking out her head. Her voice rang with surprise. She had expected the Bringers to start trying to tear down the door, but they hadn't.

"Yeah," Spike confirmed. "They left awful quick. I heard Caleb say something to the effect of 'I got her' and then they all moved on."

"Shit," Buffy muttered, running a weary hand through her hair.

"Who do they have?" Spike asked in confusion. "Who could they possibly have wanted if not you?"

Buffy glanced over at Willow's bedroom. The door was shut. After the priest had taken Kennedy, Willow had snapped into action, throwing the Bringers out of the room with a burst of energy and closing the door. Now the door slowly creaked open and Willow shoved out her head. "Where's Kennedy?" She asked, her voice laced with worry.

"They took the new kid?" Spike asked. "Why?"

Willow paled. "Because she's seen," she said. "She knows things about the First. She can't organize them, but that doesn't matter. She's still seen and the First can't live with that."

"Exactly," Buffy agreed. "We have to get her back. We need to know what she knows. Spike," she ordered, looking back at the bleach blonde vampire, "get some weapons. Willow, I want you to come with me. The rest of you stay here," Buffy instructed as Giles emerged from the bedroom and Dawn's door swung open.

"Are you sure it's safe here?" Dawn asked, joining the conversation. She had her arms wrapped around her waist.

"Honestly?" Buffy said, raising an eyebrow. "No." She saw Faith hobble out of the room behind Dawn. "But Faith is here. She'll keep you safe," Buffy added, nodding confidently to the younger girl. Faith nodded back. For a moment, the dark haired girl felt a connection between them – a mutual trust.

The former rogue knew that she was in no position to fight, but still she replied, "Yeah, don't worry little D. I've got this covered."

Dawn knew that Faith wouldn't be able to fight either. But she nodded. "Okay," she said, allowing herself to believe in the illusion of safety.

"Willow," Buffy said softly, touching her arm, "let's go."

"I'm ready," Willow murmured to herself, following her best friend as they descended the stairs. "I can do this. The magic doesn't control me any more. I control it." They reached the bottom of the stairs and Spike was waiting for them. He handed Buffy an axe, keeping a crossbow and a dagger for himself. "What do I get?" Willow asked nervously.

"Last time I checked, you could throw fireballs from your hand," Spike said sarcastically, "I don't think you really need a weapon."

"We don't have time for this. Come on," Buffy instructed, heading toward the front door. The street in front of the house was clear. Buffy felt her heart pounding, the blood careening carelessly through her veins. Her senses were hyper alert. She could see the movement of bugs in the grass. The wind felt sharper than it usually did against the exposed skin of her arms. The sound of the cars rolling down the highway a few miles away blasted through her ears. She could feel every vampire, every demon, in Sunnydale. The Slayer had woken up. The time for hiding and protecting was done. The time for hunting had begun.

Distantly, she heard the dull thudding of feet on the road. "This way," she said, following the sound like a hound after a blood trail. Spike was able to keep up with her, but Willow lagged behind. The sound of feet grew more faint and more faint until Buffy could no longer hear it. She slowed. They had run a few blocks. "I think we lost them," she said in frustration. "I can't hear them anymore."

"We need to figure out where they're going," Spike replied, panting. "We need to figure out where they'll take her."

"Uh, guys?" Willow said, finally catching up to them. Doubling over, she inhaled deeply a few times, before straightening up and pointing to something down the road. "What is that?" Buffy followed her finger and saw what appeared to be something hanging from a street lamp.

Squinting her eyes, she struggled to discern the form. When she did, she paled. "Oh, no," she muttered before she started running again without explanation.

"What?" Willow called after her. "What is it?" In the dark, she couldn't see any thing more than an odd shape.

Spike laid a hand on her shoulder. "Red," he said calmly, too calmly, "I think that's a body."

"What?" Willow asked, looking over at him.

"I can see pretty well in the dark," he explained. "I think that's a body hanging from the street lamp."

Willow held his gaze for only a moment longer before she took off running after Buffy. The blonde Slayer reached the hanging Potential first. The rope that kept her suspended in the air was tied around the trunk of a tree. Kennedy hung limply, her eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, life seemingly drained from her body. Buffy couldn't see any motion of her chest to indicate breathing. Rushing over to the taut rope, she raised the axe and slid it smoothly through. Kennedy fell. She would have smacked into the pavement had Willow not run up at that moment and caught her. Silent tears were streaming down Willow face as she slowly lowered herself and the dark haired girl to the ground. "No, no, no, no," she murmured over and over again, a feeling of despair and helplessness all too familiar rushing over her. Brushing a strand of hair from Kennedy's face, she desperately clawed at the rope around her neck to loosen it.

The skin against which the rope had rubbed and chafed was blistered and bruised. Blood trickled from cuts where the rope had squeezed too tightly. The bruises were black, a wicked black, blacker than the night. Gripping one of Kennedy's wrists, Willow held her fingers against the sensitive skin on the underside of the girl's arm and waited. But she felt nothing, not even a faint bump to indicate life. "Is she breathing?" Spike asked, kneeling down next to them.

"No," Willow replied, her voice breaking. Her eyes were lost. She was starting to hyperventilate.

"Move," Spike said, pushing Willow back as he leaned over Kennedy, ready to perform CPR. "Wait a second," he said, stopping when his lips were hovering only inches from the Potential's. "I can't breathe. This isn't going to work."

"I can do it," Buffy said, kneeling down beside Spike. The blonde vampire moved out of the way. As Buffy delivered even, regular breaths, Spike placed his hands on Kennedy's chest, just above her ribcage, and began to push.

"Come on, baby," Willow said between tortured sobs, still cradling Kennedy's head. "Breathe."

Nothing happened. "Come on!" Spike yelled. He could sense the witch's desperation and it was starting to infect him too. He had liked Tara. He remembered very clearly how devastated Willow had been when the blonde witch had died. He didn't want that for Willow again. "Come on," he said, growling low in the back of his throat.

"She's not responding," Buffy said. "I'm sorry, Will," she looked over at her best friend, "I don't think this is going to work. It's over. It's been too long. We don't know how long she was hanging there."

"Bull shit," Spike said forcefully. "This girl may not be a Slayer, but she's damn close. And from what I've seen of her so far, she doesn't give up easily. She's not dying tonight," he swore. Instead of performing the forceful, yet gentle chest compressions as he had been, he lifted his fist in the air and brought it down on Kennedy's chest.

"Spike!" Buffy yelled. "What are you doing?" The violence of his action made Willow flinch and draw away. She started sobbing harder.

Before Buffy could stop him from hitting Kennedy again, Spike brought his fist down for a second time. The reverberations running through her body shocked her heart. Nearly four minutes after her heart had stopped beating, it started again. She started breathing. Her ascent back into the world was gradual. She was aware of someone hugging her. She was aware of tears falling on her cheeks. But they weren't her tears, they were someone else's. She was aware of the sounds of laughter and of people talking.

When she opened her eyes, she was staring up at the street lamp. She could see the bugs hitting against it, trying to find the light. She tried to swallow, but it burned. Slowly, she became aware of the pain. Her neck throbbed. She felt blood oozing down her shirt. She tried breathing in through her mouth, but she started coughing. "Get her over on her side," she heard Buffy say. Then she was moving. Someone tilted her. She was still coughing, but now she was facing the street. She saw the rope lying a few feet away. Suddenly, everything came back to her. She remembered waking up in the middle of the night and knowing that something was wrong. She remembered the priest breaking into the bedroom. She remembered being dragged from the house. Finally, she remembered the rope being fastened around her neck and she remembered the feeling of utter weightlessness as they hoisted her into the air.

"Shhh…," she heard Willow say. "It's okay. You're okay now. I've got you." Willow was rubbing reassuring circles on her back, although Kennedy wasn't feeling all that reassured. It was strange to be alive again. She had made her peace in those final moments as she gazed into the artificial sun of the street lamp. She had known that she was going to die. There was no question about it. She had accepted that. Now she was alive.

"Don't you ever do that again," she heard Eli say. Glancing up, she saw him crouching next to her. Tears glistened in his eyes, but he was struggling to keep them from falling. "You scared the shit out of me."

Kennedy tried to laugh, but it emerged as another cough. "Don't try to talk, yeah?" Spike said, patting her on the back, unaware of the ghost crouching next to him. "You've been through quite a bit."

"Maybe we should take her to the hospital," Buffy said. "She might have permanent damage."

"And what would we tell them?" Willow asked, looking over at the Slayer. "She was obviously hung. If we tell them that she hung herself, they'll make her go through a psych exam. They might even insist on keeping her to make sure she doesn't try to hurt herself again. If we leave her in the hospital, she'll be vulnerable."

"And if we tell them that someone hung her, the police will get involved," Spike concluded. "We can't have that either."

"Let's get her back to the house then," Buffy suggested. "I'm feeling a little vulnerable myself out in the middle of the road like this." She said, glancing around warily. She didn't know if the priest and the Bringers were still close by. "When we get back, can you put some kind of protection spell on the house?" She asked as Willow and Spike lifted Kennedy up and helped balance her.

"Yeah," Willow replied. Looking over at Kennedy, she whispered, "You okay?" Kennedy nodded. She didn't want to try talking yet. Breathing was painful enough. The tear tracks staining Willow's face were almost enough to stop her heart again. She wanted to brush them away, kiss them away, but the group had started moving and the struggle to walk now dominated her thoughts.

"We'll have Giles look at you, okay?" Buffy said, addressing the Potential. "He'll take care of you." Kennedy nodded again. With her arms slung around Spike and Willow's shoulders, she let them help her walk back to the house. She didn't think she could do it alone. Her legs wobbled as she walked. A couple of times she almost fell, but Spike and Willow kept her standing.

By the time they reached the house, the group had gathered in the living room. Everyone held a weapon. When Buffy opened the door, they simultaneously rose to their feet and rose their weapons. "It's okay," Buffy said, holding her hands up in defense. "It's just us." The room breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"And Kennedy?" Giles asked, stepping forward.

"She's right here," Willow replied as she and Spike entered the house and helped Kennedy stumble into the living room. The other Potentials blanched when they saw her. Giles cleared his throat.

"Dawn," he instructed, "please get me the medical supplies."

"Of course," Dawn said, curiously gazing at Kennedy's bruised and bleeding neck before leaving the room.

"And if the rest of you wouldn't mind," Giles said, "I think I would like some privacy with Kennedy."

"Sure, Giles," Xander said, shepherding the others. "Let's go to the kitchen. All of this excitement has gotten me hungry. I'm sure I'm not the only one."

As Faith hobbled from the room behind the others, she stopped next to Buffy and whispered, "What happened to her?"

"They hung her," Buffy whispered back.

"Jesus," Faith said, shaking her head. "She gonna be okay?"

"I don't know," Buffy replied honestly. "We'll see."

Faith nodded and left the room. Only Buffy, Willow, and Spike remained. "Someone tell me what happened," Giles said as he cleaned his glasses and knelt in front of Kennedy.

"They hung her," Spike replied. "We found her hanging from a streetlamp."

Kennedy leaned back against the sofa cushions and closed her eyes. The world was spinning. Her head pounded and her neck burned. Every time she swallowed, every time she breathed, a thousand little knives cut into her skin. "Was she breathing when you found her?" Giles asked.

"No," Willow replied quietly.

"We performed CPR," Buffy explained. "We had given up, but Spike started hitting her chest. The shock of it must have started up her heart."

"I imagine so," Giles commented. "A last stitch effort, but in this case, it proved necessary," he smiled over at the vampire. "Good work."

Spike nodded and ducked his head, clearing his throat. "Yeah, well, couldn't let the kid bloody well die, could I?"

Giles gazed back at Kennedy. She hadn't said anything since entering the room. He didn't know if she was afraid to because of the pain it would cause, or if something deeper was at work. He didn't know for how long her heart had been stopped. "Kennedy?" He questioned quietly. "Open your eyes, please." Kennedy's eyelids fluttered and she slowly opened her eyes, gazing back at Giles. He looked concerned. "If you can understand what I'm saying, nod," he instructed. Kennedy breathed in slowly, and then nodded. Giles exhaled a sigh of relief. "Can you hold up three fingers for me, please?" Kennedy looked at him questioningly, but did as he wanted.

"Giles?" Buffy asked. "What are you doing?"

"He's testing her," Willow replied gravely.

"For what?" Buffy asked.

"To make sure she wasn't brain damaged," Willow replied. "We don't know how long she wasn't breathing and she hasn't said anything. He's trying to determine if she can still understand what's going on."

"And she can. We'll know more about her mental state when she feels ready to talk again," Giles concluded. "Now, if you don't mind leaving me alone with her, I'd like to examine the wound."

"Sure," Spike said and headed for the door.

"Willow," Buffy said, looping her arm around the witch's as she led her from the room, "why don't we go do that spell now?"

Once they were gone, Giles looked back at Kennedy and smiled. She was studying his face, wondering what he was going to say. "You've been through a rather traumatic ordeal tonight," he said, his tone fatherly, "I don't imagine you'll feel like talking much about it even when you're comfortable talking again. But just know that we're all here for you. You're going to be fine," he said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Now," he said, getting back to business. "Let's get you cleaned up."

While Giles was rummaging through the first aid kit, Kennedy leaned her head back against the sofa again and closed her eyes. The darkness behind her eyelids was comforting, much better than the harsh light of the lamps throughout the living room. Everything seemed harsher, brighter. The sounds more jarring and discordant. She couldn't remember much about the time after the darkness had first crept into her consciousness and stolen her away, but she remembered that it was peaceful. She had died. Unlike Eli, she hadn't crawled out of her body and lingered. She didn't know if she had moved on, in the generally accepted sense of the phrase, but she knew that she had left everything behind. Now she was alive again.

Giles pressed an alcohol soaked gauze pad against one of the cuts on her neck and she flinched. Even pain felt more immediate. Sighing, her thoughts drifted back to the moment of awakening. All she could see was Willows face – Willow leaning over her, Willow with tears streaming down her face, Willow laughing and crying because she was so happy that Kennedy was alive. Despite the pain and the discordance of the world she had been thrust back into, Kennedy smiled. But her smile turned to a frown. She had seen the priest while in the tower of memory. She had seen herself hanging from a streetlamp. She had seen many other violent and horrible things and they were all starting to come true. Everything was happening just as she had seen and she didn't know how to stop it, or if she could.


	13. Speak Low if You Speak Love

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Note: If you can name the Shakespeare play that my chapter title comes from, give yourself a big pat on the back.

Chapter 13: Speak Low if You Speak Love:

"Well?" Dawn asked eagerly, waiting outside of the bedroom door, a crush of people jammed behind her, waiting to hear Willow's news.

"She's asleep again," Willow replied. The witch had dark circles under her eyes; she hadn't slept in three days. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was alive with worry.

"There's gotta be something we can do," Buffy chimed in. "Her nightmares seem to be getting worse. Maybe we can give her something. Sleeping pills."

"I don't think there's anything we _can_ do. Giving her pills won't help," Giles replied, rubbing his stubble covered chin. In his fatigued state, he didn't quite trust himself to shave. "She needs natural sleep. She's been through a severe trauma and she has to work through it on her own."

"But she hasn't even spoken a word since Buffy and Spike brought her back," Faith remind him, running a hand through her long, dark locks. "How can she be working through it?"

"Something's wrong with her," Anya said. "What if she can't speak anymore? Oh! Or what if we have to teach her how to speak again? You know, because maybe she was brain damaged. I could make flashcards."

"She's not brain damaged, An," Xander said, rolling his eyes in frustration.

"She did die," Anya grumbled. "Technically."

"It's just the shock," Giles said a little more sharply than he intended. Every few hours, the house would be awoken by ragged screams piercing the night. Kennedy needed to sleep, both to regain her strength, which would aid in the healing process, and to allow her mind to relax, but every time she closed her eyes images from the tower or from that night under the street lamp would race through her mind at such an alarming rate that she felt as though they would rip right out of her skull. Consequently, no one else had slept either.

"She'll be fine," Willow said, her troubled eyes belying her confident voice. "She just needs time."

Buffy sighed. "How much time?" She asked. When she saw Willow's eyes light up in anger, she placed an apologetic hand on her arm. "I didn't mean for that to sound so bitchy. But the fact is we're in the middle of a war here. We can't have everyone on edge, not getting any sleep. We all need to be alert, functioning at our best. We're incredibly vulnerable right now."

"Maybe that's what the First wants," Dawn suggested.

"I think the First just wanted her dead," Faith replied grimly.

"For all it knows, she is dead," Giles said. "That will keep it happy for now."

"I should go back in there," Willow said, gazing back at the closed bedroom door. "She might need me."

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Buffy suggested. "Someone else can watch over her for a while."

"No," Willow replied, shaking her head. "She responds better to me. If I see her start to fidget, sometimes just running my hand through her hair helps to calm her down."

Buffy nodded. "Well, if you need anything…" She trailed off when Willow nodded.

"Thanks," the witch replied and slipped back into the darkened bedroom.

The little group began to disperse. Three days had past since Buffy and Spike found Kennedy hanging from the light pole. They hadn't seen or heard from the First since, but they knew that it was still out there, watching them, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. Despite ominous news from around the globe about dying Potentials and Watchers, no one else had arrived in Sunnydale. Giles assumed that most of the girls were either in hiding with their Watchers or going to the Council headquarters in London. However, Kate, Molly, and Annabelle had settled into life in the Summers house. They helped prepare meals and clean. Buffy trained them in the morning and afternoons. Giles worked with them at night. Though they weren't ready to patrol yet, Buffy was growing more confident in the girls' ability to handle themselves.

Faith was nearly better, her wounds having healed nicely. Though she had been invited to stay at the house, she was starting to wonder what Buffy wanted from her. The older girl hadn't given her anything to do. While she was wounded, her inactivity made sense. However, now she wanted to be out on the streets, patrolling with her sister Slayer, or at least doing something constructive. Though she wanted to broach the subject with Buffy, she hated to admit that she was afraid. She didn't want to anger the blonde Slayer anymore than she already had just by existing.

Sighing, Faith started back down the hallway toward the bedroom that she was sharing with Dawn with the intention of trying to get a few hours sleep. Before she could reach the door, Buffy's voice rang out after her. "Hey, Faith?" The older Slayer asked.

Faith turned and looked at her. "Yeah?" She replied.

"You up for a little training?" Buffy asked. Faith thought she looked hopeful, but chalked that up to her own surprise.

"Sure," the dark haired Slayer replied. "You know me, B, always ready to get sweaty."

Buffy rolled her eyes, but chuckled. "Uh huh," she said, starting down the stairs with Faith trailing behind her.

"Seriously though," Faith continued, "I haven't trained in a while. Feeling a little rusty."

"That doesn't bode well for you," Buffy shot back. "I always beat you before, even when you were on top of your game."

"Hey," Faith said, feigning offense, "I always let you win."

"How very chivalrous of you," Buffy commented. She smiled a little. Their light banter felt right. She had missed that side of Faith, the playful, energetic girl who dove into everything with all of her passion. She had forgotten about that aspect of Faith's character; she had allowed the darker parts of the girl to stain her memory. Though her first thoughts when seeing Faith were always of anger or distrust, something had changed in a brief moment three days ago. Buffy had trusted Faith enough to leave her in charge of her sister and everyone she cared about while she plunged into the night with Spike, even though Faith was wounded. Further, Buffy had done it without even thinking about it, as though instinctively she wanted to trust Faith. Despite whatever misgivings Buffy had about her, Faith had kept everyone safe while she was gone.

"You know what they say," Faith returned when she reached the bottom of the stairs, "I'm a chivalrous girl. Of course, they usually mention my more noticeable attributes first."

"And what would those be?" Buffy asked, then mentally slapped herself for leaving the door open for another of Faith's raunchy comments.

"Well, most people just starts with the twins," she said, pointing to her breasts, "and work their way down."

"I totally walked into that," Buffy replied.

"Yes, you did, B," Faith said, laughing. She continued to follow Buffy as the older Slayer led her through the hallway and into the kitchen. She didn't know what had prompted Buffy's sudden change of heart, but she was glad to be included in something. Just joking with the blonde girl relieved most of the stress that had settled firmly on her shoulders. Some of the girls were already stretching and warming up outside. The sun was slowly creeping up over the fence. In an hour, Dawn and Anya would start making breakfast. Buffy opened the back door and held it open for Faith.

"So who are they, anyway?" She asked.

"What?" Faith replied as she stepped outside. Her boots crunched on the dew covered grass.

"They," Buffy reminded her. "Those mysterious people who apparently say such nice things about you."

Faith chuckled. "I don't know. But if I meet one, I'll let you know."

"Hey," Kate said, nodding toward the dark haired Slayer. "You joining us today?" Her eyes lit up. Though she had heard some awful things about Faith, she looked up to the Slayer. Faith had saved her life and none of the rumors flying around the house about the dark haired girl would ever erase that fact.

"Yep," Faith replied. "Buffy said I could come out and play with the big girls."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Better warm up," she said. "If you're as rusty as you insinuated, these girl could probably kick your ass."

………………………………

Willow slowly closed the door behind her and turned around, resting her back against the wood. The curtains were drawn across the window to keep the light out and Kennedy lay on the bed, her knees tucked up, her hand covering her face. Her dark hair lay fanned out on the pillow behind her. She had kicked off the covers during her last nightmare. Willow smiled a little. Despite the horrible images ravaging her mind, Kennedy looked peaceful at that moment. "You really are beautiful," Willow murmured as she moved away from the door and over to the bed. Stretching out beside the girl, she rested with her back propped up against the headboard. "And I'll have you know," she said, jokingly, unaware that Kennedy was awake and listening to her, "that you only got into this bed so quickly because you're hurt. So don't expect anything, missy."

"Does that mean I can't accidentally cop a feel in the middle of the night?" Kennedy asked, her voice emerging raw, raspy, and painful. Willow jumped, throwing a hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. She hadn't expected a response. Kennedy gingerly rolled over and looked up at the red haired girl. "Sorry, did I startle you?" She asked. Every time she spoke, she felt like someone was rubbing sandpaper up and down the sensitive, bruised flesh of the inside of her throat.

"It's okay," Willow said, moving her hand down and placing it on Kennedy's hair. She started running her fingers through the younger girl's dark tresses, her fingernails every once in a while dragging pleasantly across her scalp. Kennedy closed her eyes and moaned low in her throat. "That feel good?" Willow asked. Kennedy nodded. She snuggled closer to Willow, the warmth radiating from the witch's body drawing her in. Willow relaxed. Kennedy had finally spoken. Three days of uncertainty, three days of silence, and for once Willow felt like everything was going to be okay. "You can talk to me, you know?" She said softly, gazing down at brazen, flirtatious girl who was slowly, but surely, worming her way into her heart.

"I know," Kennedy replied. Her voice sounded as though she had been smoking three packs of cigarettes a day for twenty years. Clearing her throat, she motioned for the glass of water on the bed stand. Willow reached over and handed it to her. She drank a few gulps from it and gave it back to the older girl. "Thanks," she said.

"I didn't even know what was happening until he dragged you from the room," Willow started quietly. Kennedy looked up at her as she spoke as saw tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She wanted to tell Willow to stop, but she knew that the witch needed to talk about what she was feeling. "It was like one minute you were standing there in front of us and then you were gone. Bringers rushed into the room and Annabelle screamed. As soon as I heard her, it was like I snapped awake. I threw up a barrier."

"A barrier?" Kennedy asked, interrupting.

"Yeah," Willow replied. "A magical barrier. To protect us. The Bringers couldn't get through it."

"I've never really given much thought to magic," Kennedy admitted. "It all seemed like fairy tales and Disney movies to me."

"Well, it's not," Willow said darkly. "It's much, much more than that."

"So you put up this barrier?" Kennedy prompted, trying to steer Willow away from the dark thoughts into which she was straying.

"The Bringers couldn't get through it," Willow explained. "But I couldn't get out either. And I knew the whole time that he – that priest – was taking you further and further away and that the further you got from us, the more likely it was we'd never see you again. That I'd never see you again."

"What happened with Tara?" Kennedy asked suddenly. The red haired girl had been rather elusive on that topic. She knew there was more to the story than Willow had told her the night she was taken by the priest. Kennedy felt like she needed to know it all. A large part of Willow still remained a mystery to her, but she felt that Tara was the key to the woman Willow was.

"She was shot," Willow said. "By a man named Warren."

"What did he want?" Kennedy asked.

"He was trying to kill Buffy," Willow recalled, her voice distant. "But he shot wildly and a bullet came through the bedroom window. It hit Tara in the chest."

"I'm sorry," Kennedy said sincerely, unable to imagine how it would feel to watch her lover die in front of her.

Willow nodded and brushed a few stray tears from her eyes. "I lost control," she admitted softly. "I don't just mean of my emotions. I lost control of the magic."

"What do you mean?" Kennedy asked, leaning up a little to rest against the headboard. Her throat was throbbing painfully, and every time she talked that pain only increased, but she needed to be close to Willow. She had never felt more alone than when swinging from that lamp post.

"The magic took over me. But not good magic. Not helpful magic. Black magic," she explained. "It came into me and I couldn't make it stop. I did things…horrible things," Willow admitted. Kennedy at first didn't believe her. She couldn't believe that such a sweet, generous person as Willow would harm anyone. But she saw the sincerity and honesty in her eyes. Reaching over, she grabbed Willow's hand.

"It's okay," she said.

"I killed Warren," Willow said finally, after a few moments of silence. "I used magic to rip all of the skin off of his body." Kennedy cringed, but rubbed soothing circles on the palm of Willow's hand with her thumb. "I tried to end the world."

"You what?" Kennedy asked in disbelief.

Willow nodded sadly. "I tried to end the world. I tried to kill all of my friends. Xander talked me down eventually. But I have to live with all of this. I have this magic inside of me, but I don't know if I can use it. A barrier spell is one thing. But I'm afraid the darkness will come in again."

"I don't think it will," Kennedy said confidently.

"Yeah?" Willow asked, looking over at her hopefully.

"You're so strong," Kennedy replied, "but you don't see it. You have to trust yourself."

"I guess," Willow said uncertainly. "But you didn't see me then."

"No," Kennedy agreed, "I do see you now. I see the woman you are," she said, brushing a strand of Willow's red hair behind her ear. "I know you won't lose control of yourself. Not again. Besides," she added with a coy smile, "I'm here with you now. You're safe with me."

"Yeah?" Willow asked. Then her face fell a little. "Did you forget the part where you just died?"

"No," Kennedy replied, her voice also darkening. "I don't think I'll ever forget that. But honestly, what's the odds of me dying again so soon?"

"You are in Sunnydale," Willow pointed out.

Kennedy smiled. "Stop arguing with me, okay?" She admonished lightly. "I may not be a Slayer, but I know how to fight like one. You_ are_ safe with me."

"You'll keep me in control, huh?" Willow asked, imperceptibly leaning toward her.

"Absolutely," Kennedy replied, her eyes locked with Willow's. "I'll tether you down."

"Like a kite string?" Willow said.

Kennedy laughed a little at Willow's choice of words. "Yeah," she replied, "like a kite string. You'll be a kite and I'll be your kite string."

Willow smiled and closed the distance between their lips. The kiss started as chaste as the one they had previously shared on the night Kennedy was taken. Their lips met, rubbing softly together, until Kennedy opened her mouth and begged entrance into Willow's with her tongue. A rush of warmth filled Willow's body when she felt Kennedy's tongue start massaging her own – and felt the cool pressure of her tongue ring. Sorely needing to breathe, Willow broke the kiss and smiled. "You have a tongue ring," she pointed out.

"Yes, I do," Kennedy said, smiling much like the cat that ate the canary. "And it's quite good for other things besides kissing," she noted.

Willow chuckled a little. "Perhaps," she said, "but…"

Before she could finish, Kennedy nodded. "You want to wait," she said. "You're a waiting kind of gal. I get that."

"You do?" Willow asked.

"I can wait as long as you want," Kennedy replied seriously.

Willow nodded and squeezed her hand. Then she remembered something. "How did this get to be about me sharing anyway? I should be comforting you."

Kennedy shrugged. "I'm okay," she said, her voice faltering. For a moment, she felt that weightlessness again. She heard the zipping of the rope as it flew through the Bringers hands and she catapulted toward the sky.

"Something tells me you're not," Willow said. "I mean, you haven't said a word in three days."

"I've just been thinking," Kennedy said.

"About what?" Willow replied.

"Death," Kennedy answered. The word hung in the air between them. "I died," Kennedy said slowly. "I was dead. Dead as a doorknob. Deader than dead. Kicked the bucket, moved on to the great beyond, all those stupid clichés"

"You were," Willow said gravely.

"I was dead and now I'm not," Kennedy said. "How do you deal with that? How does a person deal with that?"

"I don't know," Willow replied. "Although, Buffy might." Kennedy raised an eyebrow and Willow elaborated, "she's died twice."

"Oh," Kennedy said, the wind taken out of her sails a bit.

"Of course, she was never hung," Willow continued reassuringly, not trying to diminish Kennedy's pain. "That has to be rather traumatic."

"It was," Kennedy agreed, "sort of. There's this moment of panic when you first start to leave the ground," she said, her eye glazing a little as she spoke and remembered. "Then you feel weightless, like you're one of those astronauts floating around spraying little globs of juice around the cockpit. Then you start to realize that something's tightening around your neck and it hurts." Willow squeezed her hand again. "And you can't breathe and all of the sudden you realize that there's two ways for this to go down. You can fight and struggle. Or you can just resign yourself to the fact that you're going to die, no matter what you do. So I did," Kennedy explained. "I resigned myself. And I died."

"Baby, I'm so sorry," Willow said, running her hand down the side of Kennedy's face.

"The weird thing," Kennedy said, "is that I knew this was going to happen."

"What do you mean?" Willow asked, looking down at her sharply.

"Well," Kennedy backpedaled a little, "I didn't know for certain. Remember when I told you about the things I saw when we did that meditation?" Kennedy asked. Willow nodded. "I left some of it out," she admitted.

"What?" Willow asked. "Why?"

"I didn't understand it all. I still don't," Kennedy said in frustration. "But I realize now that just because I don't understand it doesn't mean it won't come true. The last thing I saw before I woke up," she said darkly, "was my body hanging from a streetlamp."

"Goddess," Willow replied, inhaling sharply.

"I didn't know what it meant. I didn't even know if it would really happen. I mean, hell, it could have been some symbolic image for all I knew," Kennedy said. "Apparently not."

"What else did you see?" Willow asked.

Kennedy sighed heavily. She was reluctant to tell her. Looking across the room, she noticed Eli standing by the window. "You're gonna have to tell her sooner or later," he said.

"I know," Kennedy replied.

"You know what?" Willow asked in confusion.

"Sorry," Kennedy said sheepishly, "I wasn't actually talking to you there."

"Oh," Willow said, following Kennedy's gaze to the window. "Someone's over there?" The idea of Kennedy seeing spirits and talking to them still creeped her out a little, but Willow was getting used to the idea.

"Yeah," Kennedy replied, knowing Willow was uncomfortable with the idea of being watched by some invisible presence.

"Who?" Willow asked.

"Eli," Kennedy answered. "I've been seeing him ever since I started seeing spirits and ghosts," she explained. "I guess you could say he's my best friend."

"What did he say?" Willow asked.

"He said that I would have to tell you sooner or later," Kennedy said.

Willow laughed. "He's right, you know."

"Don't tell him that," Kennedy said, "he'll be impossible."

"I will not," Eli retorted. "But it's nice to see that someone appreciates me."

Kennedy rolled her eyes. "Okay," she said. "You're not going to like all this." Eli moved away from the window and stretched out on the floor, resting while Kennedy told her story.

"We need to know, Ken," Willow said. "Maybe we can stop more bad things from happening."

Kennedy sighed and sat up, turning to face Willow. The red haired witch took her hands and began massaging them gently. "Okay," she replied, taking in a ragged breath. "While I was out of it," she said, for lack of a better description, "I saw a lot of images, but not for very long, so it's hard to connect them altogether. I saw Faith hurt, lying in a smoky room," she said, struggling to remember all that she had seen. "I think she was dying." Willow nodded encouragingly. "I saw the living room and there were girls in it that I didn't know and some of them were dead. I saw myself fighting some of those blind monks," Kennedy said, hesitating a moment before saying the next part, "and I saw one of them stab me in the stomach." Willow sucked in a breath and sought Kennedy's eyes to confirm the truth of her statement. She saw sorrow in the dark haired girl's chocolate colored orbs, but also resolve. She knew that Kennedy wouldn't run from her fate, she would face it like a Slayer.

"What else?" Willow asked.

"I saw you, Xander, Anya, and I think Tara sitting in a circle in a cemetery," Kennedy continued.

"Really?" Willow asked, her brow furrowing in confusion. She knew the moment about which Kennedy was talking. "That doesn't make much sense. That's already happened."

"What were you doing?" Kennedy asked curiously.

"A spell," Willow replied, "to bring Buffy back to life after she died the second time. I wonder why you saw that?" She asked rhetorically. "I wonder what that has to do with anything?" Willow's words supported what Tara had told Kennedy in the tower.

Kennedy shrugged. "There's more," she said. "I also saw thousands of those strong ass vampires. I saw that priest killing a girl. Then I saw something I don't quite understand," she said. "I saw the living room again. And I was wounded. Blood was pouring from my stomach. But then I looked up and my eyes glowed yellow. Just for a second. I don't know what that means."

"I don't either," Willow replied. "Is that all?" She asked.

Kennedy nodded. "That's all," she confirmed.

"We'll have to bring all of this to Buffy and Faith," Willow said. "They need to know, especially Faith," she said, troubled by Kennedy's vision of Faith lying wounded.

"Please tell me we can sleep first?" Kennedy said, her voice pleading. "I'm so tired." Talking had taken quite a bit out of her.

"So am I," Willow agreed. The two women lay back on the bed. Turning to face each other, Willow drew Kennedy into her arms. She held the Potential while she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep. Willow rested her head on the top of Kennedy's, hoping that the nightmares wouldn't plague the girl this time.

…………………………

The tea pot started whistling on the stove and Giles moved over to it. "Hey," Dawn said, entering the kitchen with Anya behind her. "Ready for us to start making breakfast?"

Giles looked out of the window and saw that Buffy and Faith's training session with the girls was starting to wind down. "Yes, I believe it's time," he said. Pouring himself a cup of tea, he flipped on the small television on the counter and watched the news. Death and violence were all he heard. Nothing good seemed to happen in the world anymore. Disgusted, he reached for the remote to turn off the television when something on it caught his eye. "This just in," the reporter said. "There's been an explosion in downtown London."

Giles dropped the remote when footage from the explosion flashed onto the screen. "Three buildings in London exploded this morning. There's no report as to whether the explosions were accidental or terrorist related. We've received no report of the dead or injured, though the buildings were reported to be occupied at the time of the explosions." Giles recognized the place right away. The buildings were gone, but he knew the area around them.

"Oh God," he murmured. Dawn and Anya looked back at him.

"What's wrong?" Dawn asked, seeing his ashen face.

"What happened?" Anya chimed in at the same time.

Giles felt sick. He hadn't been on pleasant terms with the Council, but he still had many friends within its ranks. All of their faces passed before his eyes, all of the faces of the Potentials who unwittingly had been sent there to their deaths. Giles cleared his throat, took off his glasses, and set them on the table. "It's the Watcher's Council," he said slowly, processing the words as he spoke them. "It's gone."


	14. I've Only Got Eyes for You

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Fourteen: I've Only Got Eyes for You:

"What?" Dawn asked, nearly dropping the carton of eggs. "What did you say?"

"The Watcher's Council is gone?" Anya asked, watching the small television with worried eyes.

"Well," Giles said, "I do imagine there are some Watchers spread throughout the globe. After all, the First can't have killed them all yet," he added, more to himself than the others. "But those demolished buildings you see on the screen there," he said, indicating to the television, "were the Council headquarters in London." His eyes shined distantly as he said, "There were dormitories there, for Potentials, Watchers, and Watchers-in-training. Meeting rooms, kitchens, training rooms. The inventory of weapons and mystical paraphernalia was truly incredible," he added. "They had weapons that were centuries old. And the library," he sighed. Running a hand through his thinning hair, he said, "The library was spectacular."

"And it's all gone," Dawn surmised.

"All dust and ash in that rubble," Giles said. His eyes misted over, but he blinked and cleared them. "I can't say who was there at the time. I'm certain Watchers have been sending their threatened Potentials there, thinking that those buildings would be an indomitable fortress in a time of danger. It always has been."

"Theoretically," Anya said, "for all we know, the four Potentials in this house could be the only ones left."

Giles looked up at her grimly. Silence held the kitchen until he said, "I would sincerely hope not."

"Me too," Anya replied shortly. "But we don't know. Not now."

"So what do we do?" Dawn asked, chills raising the flesh of her arms. "Do we put out some kind of message? You know, if you're a Potential and you're on the run from the blind monks with pointy objects, come on down to Sunnydale where you'll find fun, sun, and all kinds of fresh ways to die?"

"That's actually not a bad idea," Giles said distractedly.

Dawn snorted. "Seriously? Did you hear a word I said?"

He waved at her dismissively. "Of course I heard all of the sarcastic nonsense. But the first part was actually bloody brilliant. We can send a message through the Coven for all the remaining Potentials and Watchers."

"Bring everyone to Sunnydale," Anya commented. Glancing around the kitchen, she added, "We're going to need a bigger house."

……………………..

With Kennedy finally sleeping soundly upstairs, Willow wandered down to the living room, where she found Xander reinforcing the windows. After the attack, he had reinforced all of the doors. Despite the protection spell Willow had put on the house, he wasn't satisfied. He thought that the windows were too vulnerable. He didn't want to cover them completely; sequestering the house in darkness would only dampen the spirits of everyone living inside of it. But he wanted to cover enough of the windows to prevent someone from jumping through them, leaving a foot or two of open space through which the sun could shine. Though Spike hadn't been in forefront of Xander's mind when the carpenter decided to embark on his project, the vampire living in the basement clearly benefited from less light filtering into the house.

"How's it going?" Willow asked, sitting on the armchair as she watched her oldest friend measure out planks of wood.

"Good," Xander replied, smiling over at her. "I'm almost done the living room. I'll hit the kitchen next. Hopefully finish that up today. Move onto the dining room tomorrow and then the bedrooms."

"I know Buffy appreciates you doing this," Willow said.

Xander nodded. "I think we'll all feel safer now."

"I know I will," Willow said warmly.

"How's Kennedy doing?" Xander asked, glancing over at her.

"She's asleep," Willow replied.

Her dark haired friend nodded. "You and her seem awfully close," he noted.

Willow narrowed her eyes. "Uh huh," she replied.

"You're spending a lot of time with her," he continued.

"Xander Harris," Willow drawled threateningly, "where are you going with this?"

"I'm just saying," he said, throwing up his hands defensively, "you don't know her that well. You sure it's such a good idea getting so close to her so quickly?"

"She's only sleeping in my bed because she's injured," Willow explained. "Nothing's happened."

"I find that hard to believe," Xander said, then chuckled nervously when Willow glared at him.

"Why do you say that?" She asked.

"Nothing," Xander replied. "Shouldn't have said it."

"Xander," Willow stated.

"Okay, fine," he said, putting down his measuring tape and pencil. "She's flirty, that's all. I kinda figured her to be the quick moving type. Kinda like Faith. I guess I was wrong."

"You are wrong," Willow said. "She's not like that at all. But," she added, knowing that Xander was only concerned for her well-being, "I can see why you would think that. She seems an awful lot like Faith, you know, before Faith went psychotic on us. But she's really not."

"It's just a front," Xander surmised.

"Yeah," Willow replied. "She's a Potential Slayer. She's been trained to be tough. So she acts tough."

"And bratty," Xander slipped in.

Willow rolled her eyes. "But she has a good heart."

"I know," Xander said, smiling lopsidedly.

"How do you know?" Willow asked doubtfully.

"Because you wouldn't like her if she didn't," he said simply, shrugging.

Willow smiled widely, her eyes sparkling. "You need any help?" She asked.

"Yeah, actually," Xander replied. "Could you hold this up to the window?" He asked, motioning toward the plank.

Willow nodded. "Sure," she replied, moving over to help her best friend.

……………………………

Kennedy awoke with a start, feeling as though someone was watching her. The bedroom was dark, the blind still covering the window. She glanced over at the alarm clock and saw that it was four o'clock in the afternoon. She had kicked the covers off of her body again and she was cold. Sitting up, she stifled a gasp when her eyes rested on a person standing at the foot of the bed. What unnerved her the most was not that someone was actually standing there watching her, like she had believed when she first awoke, but that the person watching her _was_ her.

"What the hell," she muttered, sliding away until her back was resting against the wooden headboard.

"I thought I'd try you out," the First Evil said, speaking through her voice, smiling through her lips, moving in her body as though it had for centuries.

"What are you talking about?" Kennedy asked. She hated to admit it, but she was terrified. A sheen of sweat broke out on her forehead. She curled her fingers into the bed sheets to stop her hands from shaking.

"You died," the First explained, as though speaking to a five year old, "and now I can be you whenever I want."

"Oh my God," Kennedy said lowly, her eyes widening.

"That's right," the First said. "I can be you whenever I want with whomever I want. I could go downstairs right now before you'd even have a chance to get out of this bed and I could tell that little witch you're so fond of things that would make her head spin."

"What do you mean?" Kennedy asked, her eyes narrowing.

"You see, Kenny," the First replied, using the Potential's father's favorite nickname for her, "the first time I become you, the first time I try on your skin for a little ride," it said, smiling devilishly and thrusting its hips, "I find out everything there is to know about you."

Kennedy paled. "Everything?" She asked.

"Oh yeah," the First said. "Everything. I know the names and faces of all of the girls you've fucked, which," it said, whistling lowly, "are quite a few for a girl your age. Hell, I don't even know the names of some of them. You don't either apparently. I'm sure Willow, that's her name right?" It asked dismissively. "I'm sure she would be interested to know about you're womanizing history."

"Tell her," Kennedy replied brazenly, though her voice faltered. "She's going to find out everything there is to know about me sooner or later."

"Really?" The First asked. "You're going to tell her everything then huh? About all of the girls and the drinking. How reckless you've been. What about your money? I know for a fact that you don't tell anyone about that. You're afraid people will look at you differently, expect something different from you, right? No one will understand just what it's like to be a little rich girl. You're so misunderstood," the First said mockingly. Kennedy stayed quiet. The First had nailed her biggest insecurity. The First smiled and Kennedy thought it looked repulsive, even though it was smiling on her face. "I got ya there, didn't I?" It asked. "Found your big weakness. Well, that and mommy," it said offhandedly.

"Don't you dare talk about her," Kennedy growled.

"Must have been tough for you. Little girl abandoned by her mother. And you look so much like her. Must be hard to look at yourself in the mirror. Of course, your father can't really look at you either, can he? He sees her too," the First commented.

"Shut up," Kennedy said, closing her eyes. "Just shut up."

"So much pain," the First said, moving over to her and studying her face. "I can't feel it, you know. I'm not human like you. But what it must be like to be human. You go through so much. It doesn't make any sense why you all keep trying. Why not just die? Why not just give up? Save yourselves all the pain. But no, you keep struggling. What for? For God?" It asked and laughed hatefully. "When has God ever helped you?"

"At least there is a God," Kennedy replied, glaring over at the First. "Maybe that's all that matters. There isn't just evil in the world. There's good too."

"Not very much," the First snorted. "You know, Kenny," it continued, "I've seen what you've seen. All of those memories. All of those visions. I know what you know. And from what I've seen, my friend, you don't win. So much violence surrounds you. All you saw was death."

"That and a lot of vampires," Kennedy added.

"That's right," it said. "My beautiful vampires."

Kennedy inwardly smiled. Though the First Evil had seen the images that still tumbled through her mind, it had interpreted them in a much different way. Where Kennedy saw opportunities to change the future, the First saw a future etched in stone. Kennedy opened her mouth to reply as the bedroom door opened. Willow peeked her head in to check on the Potential and jumped back, startled when she saw Kennedy sitting on the bed and standing by its side. "Will," Kennedy said, looking over at her and locking eyes with her, trying to communicate that everything was alright, "relax. It's just the First. Seems to have come up with a new parlor trick."

"You like?" The First asked, running its hands up and down its body. "Of course you do," it added, laughing with Kennedy's laugh. "You won't say it out loud, you're too modest for that, but I saw the way your eyes widened. You want to fuck her so bad you can barely breathe."

Willow reddened and Kennedy chuckled a little, but said softly, "Don't listen to it, Will. It's just spouting a bunch of shit."

The First grinned over at Kennedy. "I should go. Three's a crowd. Be seeing you soon, kid," it said, winked, and disappeared.

Willow sighed. "How long was it here?"

"Only a few minutes," Kennedy replied. "Long enough to creep me out though," she muttered.

"What did it say?" Willow asked.

"It told me that it knew everything that I know," Kennedy answered truthfully. "About my past and about the things I've seen."

"That's not good," Willow muttered.

"Actually," Kennedy replied, "I think it is. The First seemed pretty arrogant, like the things it saw in my brain only served to confirm its opinion of itself and its plan."

"It doesn't think we can change anything," Willow commented.

"So it'll be severely disappointed when we do," Kennedy said.

Willow nodded. "About what it said," she struggled to say, her face reddening again.

"Don't sweat it," Kennedy said dismissively as she rose to her feet and stretched. The hem of her shirt lifted, revealing her tanned, toned stomach. She smiled a little when she saw Willow's eyes drop to take in the view. "Everyone thinks that when they see me," she said, brushing by the witch, allowing her fingers to graze against her arm. "But I've only got eyes for you."

……………………………….

Faith stood on the kitchen, watching through the window as Buffy stretched outside. The sun was lowering in the sky, its red rays reaching out and caressing Buffy's blonde hair, illuminating it in the diminishing light. Her muscles rippled underneath of her skin, her lithe body contorting as she moved into a Yoga position. Faith felt a flood of warmth fill her, desire pumping through her veins. She wanted to tear her eyes away, do something else, anything else, than fill her mind with lustful thoughts of the older Slayer, but she couldn't. She was transfixed. She always had been. Her fingers gripped the edge of the sink and she moaned low in her throat. Closing her eyes, she slowed her breathing using a mediation technique Angel had taught her.

"Maybe you should just tell her," Dawn said, smirking, as she stood watching Faith in the kitchen doorway.

Faith jumped. "Shit, D," she said, looking back over her shoulder. "How long you been standing there?"

"Long enough to get that you're fantasizing about my sister," she shot back.

One look at Dawn told Faith that denying her statement would only get her into worse trouble. "Okay," she admitted. "You got me."

"Like I said," Dawn repeated as she moved into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door, "maybe you should just tell her."

"Tell who what?" Buffy asked, walking in through the door at that very moment.

Faith panicked and glanced pleadingly over at Dawn, who also had a look of panic on her face, though she recovered more quickly. "Just that Faith thinks it's time she went on patrol with you," Dawn made up. "I think we're all getting a little sick of her just hanging around the house," she joked.

Faith rolled her eyes in mock anger, but sighed internally with relief. "Yeah," she added.

Buffy smiled. "Funny thing. I was just thinking that myself." Faith frowned. "Not that part about being sick of you hanging around the house," Buffy backpedaled quickly, though she wasn't quite sure why she didn't want Faith thinking that anymore when she clearly did not that long ago. "The part about you and me patrolling. I was just thinking that."

"Sweet," Faith said.

"You think you can be ready in a few hours?" Buffy asked, grabbing a water bottle as Dawn handed it to her.

"Are you kidding?" Faith asked. "I'm always ready to kick a little ass."


	15. At the Supermarket

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Note: Sorry for the delay. I was taking a May term class and just didn't have time to update.

Chapter Fifteen: At the Supermarket:

The bright sun, the cloudless sky, the gentle, warm air, all fit into Kennedy's stereotypical image of California. Downtown Sunnydale possessed its own small-town charm. People were laughing as they sat outside the coffee shop and drank from big, brightly colored mugs while nibbling on pastries. The old movie theater and brick buildings lent a sense of age to the town. A perfect day out, or it would have been, had Kennedy not been able to see what lingered underneath of it all. No one else knew; no one else could see. Walking next to people talking and shopping were the tormented spirits of those who couldn't cross over into the next life.

A man passed by Kennedy, bleeding from his chest, where two bullets had ripped through his flesh. Another man still hung from the rafters of the movie theater. Victims of vampire bites tried to speak to her when she walked by, but their throats had been ripped out, and the only sounds to emerge were tortured hisses. "You okay?" Willow asked, laying her arm on the jumpy Potential. The entire group was walking down the sidewalk, heading toward the grocery store. Willow walked on one side of Kennedy, Eli on the other.

Kennedy faked a smile. "Of course," she replied. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You seem a little nervous," Willow noted, her worries confirmed when Kennedy failed to meet her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Kennedy replied automatically.

"You really need to work on your relationship skills," Eli commented pointedly. "Communicate. It's the key to every successful relationship."

Kennedy glared over at him and Willow smirked. The witch was still trying to get used to the fact that there was always someone else lingering around Kennedy. But over the week or two since Kennedy had been hung by the preacher, Willow had gotten to know Eli through the Potential and she found that she rather liked him. "You should probably listen to him," Willow added, though she couldn't actually hear anything that Eli said. "He always seems to be right."

"Funny that, I totally do always seem to be right," Eli said smugly. "Thank you, Willow. Thank her for me, will ya Kenn?"

"Great," Kennedy grumbled good-naturedly. "Now I've got both of you ganging up on me." Willow chuckled and slipped her hand into the Potential's. Kennedy smiled and sighed. "Seriously," she said, "everything's fine. We're out, having fun, not cramped up in the house with all that tension between Buffy and Faith driving everyone nuts."

"What tension?" Willow asked confusedly.

Kennedy snorted. "You can't feel it?" She asked.

"No," Willow replied.

"Never mind then," Kennedy said. "There's just one little problem."

"What?" Willow asked.

"I see dead people everywhere," Kennedy dead panned.

"Oh," Willow nodded. "Right."

"But I've learned to deal with it," the Potential said quickly, not wanting to scare the witch. "It's okay. There's just more of them than I'm used to."

"Well," Willow replied, "a lot of people have died in this town."

"Yeah," Kennedy said. "I'm starting to get that."

They walked on in silence. Ahead of them, Buffy and Faith were walking together. "You seriously need to calm down," Buffy said irritably.

"I'm calm," Faith said sharply.

"No, you're not," Buffy replied lowly. "You're jumpy. You're going to freak out the Potentials."

"I'm not jumpy," Faith insisted.

"Then why do you keep flexing your hands?" Buffy asked. "Hmm? Why do you keep scanning the street, twitching, jumping at every freakin' sound?"

"Hey," Faith said turning to her, speaking lowly so that everyone else wouldn't hear, "you didn't get your ass kicked by a super vampire, okay?"

Buffy's reply died on her lips and she nodded. "Okay," she agreed. "I see your point."

"You do?" Faith asked in surprise.

"Yeah," Buffy said. "But it's day. We're all okay. No vampires of any variety."

"I know," Faith sighed, running a hand through her wild locks. "I can't help it. That really threw me, you know?" She asked. "I'm not used to getting my ass kicked, except by you," she added with a chuckle that Buffy didn't share right away. "Besides, the super vamps may not be able to frolic and play right now, but a little sunlight won't stop the guys with pointy knives – or the preacher."

"That's why we're all out together," Buffy stated confidently. "So that no one can catch us off guard. Besides," she said, when the supermarket came into view. "We need more food. With everyone living at the house, and with the influx of Potentials we're supposed to be getting, we're going to go through supplies like there's no tomorrow."

"Bad choice of phrasing, B," Faith smirked. Buffy rolled her eyes, but laughed.

"Right," she said. "But seriously, though," she added, "you do have to calm down a little. The Potentials can pick up on it when one of us is nervous."

"I'd be a lot less nervous if one of us actually kicked someone's ass for a change instead of getting our asses kicked," Faith replied. "Let's face it, we're not having a good run here, B. I got knocked down a peg or two. You didn't exactly clean up after me. Then that preacher dude breaks into the house – _our freaking house_ – and hangs Kennedy. I'd be shocked if anyone actually felt safe with us. _I _don't feel safe with us," she said emphatically.

"You paint such a nice picture, Faith," Buffy said grimly, though she knew that her sister Slayer was right. However, she didn't know how she felt about Faith thinking of the house as _her_ house. She had invited Faith to stay and, in the weeks since the incident with the preacher, she had grown accustomed to having Faith around. But she was still conflicted over how she felt about the dark haired girl and if she would ever find the courage to talk to her about those feelings – all of them, the good and the bad.

"It's the truth, B," Faith said.

"I know," Buffy said as they crossed the parking lot. "Grab a couple of carts, guys," she called back to Xander, Giles, and Willow. "I'll think of something," she said offhandedly, grabbing her own cart. She saw Faith's mouth tighten and touched Faith's arm. "_We'll_ think of something," she corrected, trying to ignore the sparks of lightening that ran up her fingers when she touched the younger girl.

"Like together?" Faith asked, chills running up and down her spine from Buffy's gentle touch.

"Yeah, together," Buffy confirmed.

"So where is Giles getting the money for this little shopping excursion?" Xander asked, kicking the back wheel of his cart, which spun around in a different direction than the other three. "Why do I always grab the defective one?"

"Apparently, after the Council was effectively destroyed, and Giles was like the only person willing to step forward to claim to be part of the Council, he was able to access the Council funds," Dawn explained. "So now we have a lot of money."

"Really?" Anya asked eagerly. "We have a lot of money? Like how much money? Give me a figure here."

"I don't know," Dawn said, throwing up her hands defensively, "you're going to have to ask him."

"Giles has been trying to contact other members of the Council," Willow explained, ignoring Anya's comment. "Not many people are willing to step forward at this point. Word has gotten around about what's happening with the Potentials."

"Can you blame them?" Kennedy asked, shuddering when she thought of her own Watcher's last night alive.

"I guess not," Willow said, smiling sympathetically at her and rubbing the Potential's arm.

"Xander, stop gawking at them," Anya instructed sharply.

"I wasn't gawking," Xander shot back sheepishly.

"Has he been able to contact anyone?" Xander asked. "I haven't really seen the guy much. He's been on the phone so often."

"He was able to get a hold of Wesley, obviously," Dawn said. "But he's gotta stay down in L.A. with Angel."

"And Giles has been able to get some of the retired and fired members of the Council to agree to travel to Sunnydale when they can," Willow added.

"Why the fired members?" Kennedy asked. "Weren't they fired for a reason?"

"Giles was fired," Willow pointed out. "Or quit," she said, thinking again. "I can't really remember which at this point. There were a lot of angry words bantered back and forth there."

"Okay," Kennedy said. "Good point. Giles is a good Watcher."

"Yeah, he is," Dawn said. "Some of the people who left were fired for thinking progressively, like Giles."

"Out of the ashes of the Council," Willow explained, "we're going to have to rebuild. Maybe not now," she said as they passed through the sliding doors of the market, "but eventually. We'll need people who have different thoughts and ideas than the previous Council."

"What about Potentials?" Kennedy asked.

Dawn smiled grimly. "That's why we're going to the store," she said. "Apparently, we're getting a bunch. More than a bunch, actually," she added. "A house full of them all coming to Sunnydale in the next few days. So, we need food and lots of it."

"Okay, guys," Buffy said, taking command once they were all in the market. "Let's split up so we can do this efficiently. Willow, Kennedy, Molly, get can goods and boxed food. Giles, Anya, and Xander, work the fruit and vegetable aisle. Faith and I will hit the meat section. Dawn and Annabelle, get the diary and baked goods. We'll meet back up front in about twenty minutes okay?" Everyone nodded and split up, rolling carts in different directions.

"Don't forget to get some blood for Spike from the butcher," Faith said as she wheeled a cart back toward the meat cases with Buffy following along behind her.

"You're actually reminding me to get blood for Spike, huh?" Buffy said. "I didn't think you liked him."

"I don't," Faith replied. "There's something a little off about him. But he is a good fighter and we need him. So we might as well feed him."

"How big of you," Buffy joked, though she knew that Faith wouldn't be so tolerant of Spike and his "off" behavior if she knew about why Spike left Sunnydale to find his soul in the first place.

Kennedy watched Willow pile cans of beans and vegetables into the shopping cart. It had been a long time since Kennedy had truly felt at home anywhere. Her house in New York hadn't felt like home since her mother left. Her flat with her Watcher was just a rented place they went to when they weren't traveling around the globe. But she felt at home in Sunnydale. She felt almost normal for once, like a normal girl shopping for food with her girlfriend. She smiled a little. She was getting ahead of herself. She felt attached to Willow, but she wasn't sure that the red haired witch felt the same way. They had kissed and shared their attraction for each other, but Kennedy still wasn't sure how Willow felt about a "relationship."

"What are you smiling about?" Willow asked, throwing some canned asparagus into the cart.

"This feels good," Kennedy said, shrugging. "Shopping for food with people I've grown to care about. It's like home."

Willow smiled and put her arms around Kennedy's neck. She lightly brushed her lips across the other girl's. "I'm glad you feel at home with us."

"Yeah?" Kennedy asked.

"Yeah," Willow confirmed.

…………………………..

"You know," the First said, speaking through Buffy's voice, "I was rather disappointed with you when failed to kill Kennedy like I asked. But this almost makes up for it." The First watched as its Bringers put the finishing touches on underground room in which the Scythe was being held captive.

"They don't even know it exists," Caleb said, clearing his throat. He knew that the First was angry with him. It brought up his failure every chance it got. The next time he saw the dark haired girl, she wouldn't live to see the dawn.

"And they never will," the First said. "This is ours now. Not theirs. The weapon of the Slayers," it scoffed. "The line of the Slayers is coming to a close. When we triumph, when we destroy them, the time of man will end and the time of the demons will begin."


	16. New Beginnings

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Sixteen: New Beginnings:

Buffy stood in the doorway; she was back here again. She didn't know why. She never really understood why she came here time and time again. In her dreams, the sun was slanting golden through the window. Every outside sound shrank into the background. The room was quiet, still, and peaceful. The sheets on the bed were white, but they were rumpled. "I already made that bed," Buffy said, her brow furrowing in confusion.

"Yeah," Faith said, walking up behind her and slinging her arm around the blonde girl's shoulder. "_We_ did just make it. But you know," she said, waggling her eyebrows, "we had a lot more fun un-making it."

"What are you talking about?" Buffy asked as Faith moved away from her and walked over to the disheveled bed. Though she didn't want to admit it, Buffy missed the contact. The warmth that flowed through her body when Faith touched her suddenly went cold.

"You know what I'm talking about," Faith said, idly picking up the corner of a sheet. "You gonna help me here or are you just gonna stand here with your mouth hanging open?"

Buffy chuckled nervously and moved over to the other side of the bed. "We didn't, I mean, not really, right?"

"No," Faith said, laughing to herself. "Not really. You want us to though. Hell, _I_ want us to."

"But?" Buffy asked.

"But you've gotta open your eyes a little here, Blondie," Faith explained as they made the bed together. "I mean, I'd wait forever for you. I'd rather not," she added quickly, "but I would."

Buffy sighed and looked over at Faith. The sun was shining through her chestnut colored hair. She looked beautiful. "I just don't know," she murmured.

"Pull that blanket up," Faith instructed. Buffy complied absently. "You've gotta figure this out, B. We can't keep living like this, you know that. It's gonna us both crazy."

"Who said I'm going crazy?" Buffy asked defensively. Faith stared over at her pointedly. "Okay, fine, maybe I am a little."

"Uh huh," Faith replied.

"How do I know I can trust you?" Buffy suddenly asked, her voice growing in anger. "I mean, really. You came to us all of those years ago and we took you in." She said, dropping the blanket as she gestured wildly with her hand. Faith dropped the other corner of the blanket and stood, listening silently. "We took you in and you betrayed us. You betrayed me! You abandoned me!"

"Is that what this is all about?" Faith asked, looking up at the older Slayer. "I'm not going to abandon you again. I'm not going to betray you. I'm here now – to stay."

"How do I know that's true?" Buffy asked, tears springing to her eyes.

"You just have to trust me," Faith said. "You just have to try. It's your choice, B. You can either be happy or not. No one's standing in your way but you. I'm right here, B," she said emphatically. "I'm right here."

Buffy awoke to the sound of the front door slamming shut. The remnants of her dream still lingered in her memory – how soft Faith's hair looked shimmering in the sunlight, the pain in Faith's eyes when she questioned whether she could trust her. Sighing, she ran a hand through her golden locks and sat up in her bed. Glancing over at the clock, she saw that it was 8:30 in the morning. Whipping off the covers, she quickly changed clothes and left her bedroom. Her gaze immediately strayed to Dawn's bedroom, where she knew that Faith was still sleeping. A shadow moved under the door of the bedroom and Buffy walked over to it. Hesitantly, she knocked on the door. "Faith, you in there?" She asked.

The door swung open, revealing Faith in her workout clothes. "Yeah, B," she replied. "Just getting changed. Some Potentials showed up. I was gonna go down and get them started warming up for the morning work out. Kennedy's leading the stretching as we speak."

"Can I talk to you a second first?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah, sure," Faith said, opening the door further.

"Is Dawn in here?" Buffy asked.

"No," Faith said as she began to lace up her tennis shoes. "She's starting breakfast downstairs. "What's up?"

"Did you have any dreams last night?" Buffy asked.

"Dreams?" Faith replied, her brow furrowing as she thought. "I think I dreamed something about a guy with cheese, a steamship, and a unicorn, though I'm not entirely sure how that's all related," she said confusedly.

"Right," Buffy said, smiling slightly. "Well, I had a dream."

"Yeah?" Faith asked. "A good dream? Or a bad one?"

"I'd say a good one," Buffy said evasively. "But that's not really the point. I didn't come here to discuss my dream with you."

"Okay," Faith said, standing up. "What did you come here to discuss with me?"

Buffy opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it. She wasn't entirely sure what she wanted to discuss with Faith. She had knocked on the door as an impulse. Dream Faith had instructed her to act on her feelings, which she still hadn't quite sorted out yet. But since they hadn't shared the dream, dream Faith was just a figment of Buffy's imagination. She had no way of knowing whether the real Faith felt any of the things that dream Faith apparently did.

"Well?" Faith asked, waving a hand in front of Buffy's face. The older Slayer's eyes had glazed over with thought. Buffy snapped back to attention and smiled sheepishly at Faith. "What's going on, B?" She asked. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "Everything's okay." Clearing her throat, she stepped closer to Faith. "I'm just going to try something, okay, because someone told me to and I'm inclined to listen to her advice."

"Okay," Faith replied bemusedly. "What are you going to try?" She asked.

"This," Buffy said, closing the distance between them. Their lips met suddenly. The taste of Buffy's bubblegum lip gloss filled Faith's mind. A flood of warmth filled her, intensity sparking through her body. Buffy reached up and cupped her cheeks, deepening the kiss for a moment. When their tongues met, both women moaned low in the backs of their throats. Then Buffy pulled away. Faith still stood with her eyes closed. "Wow," Buffy muttered, touching her own lips.

"That's what you wanted to try?" Faith asked, opening her eyes and gazing down at the shorter girl.

"Yeah," Buffy said.

"Was it everything you thought it's be?" She asked.

Buffy smiled devilishly.

…………………..

Giles watched as the girls did their morning workout in the backyard. Five new Potentials had arrived that morning with more scheduled to arrive in the evening. "I think we're going to need a bigger house," Anya muttered as she cleaned up the remains of breakfast. As Dawn scraped food off of the dishes, Anya washed them, and Willow dried them.

"I agree," Dawn said. "My room is barely big enough for Faith, Molly, and I. There isn't going to be any room to move if I've got Potentials in sleeping bags all over my floor."

"Unfortunately," Giles said, sipping his tea, "I'm afraid things are going to get much worse before they get better. More girls will be coming everyday. They all have to stay here. I'm not comfortable having any Potential in a living situation away from the Slayers at this point."

"Especially not in Sunnydale," Willow added. "This is the First's base camp, so to speak. Any Potential on her own might as well be dead already."

"I agree," Giles said.

Dawn sighed. "This is not how I imagined my teenage years," she said wistfully. "I pictured sneaking out to parties. Dates with boys. Miserably failing algebra and having to take it again in the summer with Willow doing most of my homework." Willow smirked. "Not doing massive amounts of dishes and cooking for hordes of hungry Potentials while worrying constantly about someone trying to kill not only me but practically everyone around me."

"The life of a Watcher," Giles said, "is never an easy one."

"But I'm not a Watcher, Giles," Dawn replied. "I'm…well, I'm just me."

"You're not a Watcher yet," Giles replied. "But how would you like to be one?"

"Excuse me?" Dawn asked in surprise. Willow smiled a little and nodded to Giles.

"Giles and I were talking about this earlier this morning," Willow interjected. "There's an extreme dearth of Watchers right now. We need people to help train the girls. People to fill the roles of those we've lost."

"You're a very smart girl, Dawn," Giles said. "I think you'd make an excellent Watcher."

"Really?" Dawn asked, her eyes lighting up. "You think I would?"

"We both do," Willow confirmed.

"Cool," she replied, nodding her head enthusiastically. "I'm in."

"Good," Giles smiled. "Then you and Xander will comprise our first class of Watchers-in-training."

"Xander's going to be a Watcher?" Anya asked in confusion. "I get why you chose Dawn. She is smart. Bratty, perhaps," Anya said contemplatively. Dawn glared over at her. "But smart. Xander, on the other hand, gods love him and all, is not quite so smart."  
Giles smirked. "I will admit that Xander may be lacking in what one could define as "book smarts." But," he insisted, "Xander has other qualities that make him an excellent candidate. He's intuitive and caring. For seven years now, he's been helping to train Buffy. He knows more about Slayers than most people in the Council because he's had more experience with Slayers than most people in the Council ever had."

"So when do we start?" Dawn asked, choosing to ignore Anya's comments.

"This morning," Giles stated. "Being a Watcher does entail some knowledge of languages and research. Therefore, we'll start with the difficult material first. Xander is already in the living room looking over some supplementary materials I created for him. We'll start slowly at first, until he can catch up. I'm sure you'll pick it all up rather quickly," he said, confidently.

Willow glanced out of the window while Giles and Dawn talked and watched as Kennedy followed Buffy and Faith's movements, punching the air. Her hair was pulled back in a loose pony tail. A sheen of sweat covered her tanned skin. Her muscles were taut and a look of fierce concentration graced her face. Every once in a while, her shirt lifted up a little and revealed her tight abs. The girl was beautiful. Willow smiled, knowing that Kennedy could have pursued anyone, but chose to pursue her. The only thing to cloud her beauty was the dark purple, black bruise lining her throat where the rope from which Kennedy had been hung had traumatized her flesh. Despite her hesitancy to open her heart to anyone after Tara's death, Willow was starting to think in terms of her and Kennedy, rather than just about her own welfare. She wanted a relationship with the younger girl and she hoped that Kennedy felt the same.

Taking a break from their workout, Buffy grabbed two bottles of water and moved over to where Faith was leaning against the house. "Here," she said, tossing the dark haired girl a bottle of water.

"Thanks," Faith replied.

"So, I was thinking," Buffy started.

"Did this line of thought follow your thinking from earlier this morning?" Faith asked. "Because I could deal with some more of that kind of thinking."

Buffy blushed a little and ducked her head. "No," she said, "although I'm sure I could entertain some more of those thoughts later," she mumbled embarrassedly.

"Okay," Faith said, letting Buffy off the hook. "So what were you thinking about this time?"

"How to deal with the fact that we're seriously outnumbered and outmatched by our enemies right now," the older Slayer stated.

"And?" Faith questioned. "What did you come up with?"

"We need to face our enemies head on," Buffy determined. "Not like all of them at once," she added, when she saw Faith's eyes widen. "But we need to take on one of those super vampires and take him out."

Faith nodded her head as she swallowed a gulp of water. "Okay," she replied. "I like where this is going. We take down one of those vamps; we prove to the girls that we're not pussies and that they didn't make a huge mistake coming here for us to protect them."

"Exactly," Buffy said.

"But here's a question," Faith said. "What if we can't take him out? I mean, he mopped the floor with both of us."

"Faith," Buffy stated, "of course we can take him out. We're Slayers. We can kill anything. That's our destiny."


	17. Conversations with the Dead

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter 17: Conversations with the Dead:

Kennedy slipped her tank top over her head, relishing the feel of the soft fabric as it slid across her skin. She had just showered, with enough hot water to quickly wash her hair before it turned ice cold. It was Sunday, so the usual training regiment had been replaced by a day of relaxation and rest. The Slayers worked the Potentials hard all week, but they gave the girls Sunday to call home, goof off, and rest. Sundays off had been Faith's idea. Kennedy truly believed that Buffy would have worked them all into the ground. But Faith knew the importance of having some balance. She had lived a Spartan, warrior lifestyle long enough and it nearly drove her crazy. Everyone needed to have some fun and Faith had been the first in line to advocate Sunday as a day of rest, which conveniently enough coincided with the traditional view of Sunday as a holy day anyway. Although Faith's version of a day of rest probably was not what God had in mind.

Kennedy smirked and shook her head. Despite the dark history of the younger Slayer, Kennedy looked up to Faith. She viewed her as an older sister in some ways. She could see the similarities between herself and Faith, though she also knew that she was very different. Kennedy had lived her share of wild days. But she was grounded. It hadn't been her family that had instilled in her a clear sense of right and wrong. She credited that to her Watcher. Neither her mother nor her father had been as profound an influence on her as Isaiah. He had taught her to trust her instincts, to work hard, and to respect her enemies. Her thoughts turned to her Watcher and she frowned. The memory of his death still lingered fresh in her mind, though she felt as though the event itself had happened a lifetime ago.

Since coming to Sunnydale, every day seemed like years. She had learned so much about herself in such a short time and she had found a group of people with whom she fit almost instantaneously. Kennedy was so wrapped in her thoughts that she didn't hear the door slide open softly. Willow stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. She watched as Kennedy stared into the mirror, her eyes distant. She wondered of what the younger girl was thinking. Though she hated to interrupt Kennedy's contemplations, she had her own heavy thoughts weighing down her mind. Clearing her throat, she smiled when Kennedy glanced up at her in the mirror.

"Hey, Will," Kennedy said, turning around to face her. "What's going on?"

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Willow replied, fidgeting with her hands nervously.

Kennedy smiled reassuringly. "Okay," she replied. "Let's talk."

She moved to sit on the bed, but Willow waved her away from it. "Actually," she said, "I want to take you somewhere. And this might seem a little weird, but I need to do this, okay?" She asked. Kennedy could see the desperation and anxiety in her eyes and she nodded.

"Okay," she agreed, though somewhat warily. She decided to remain quiet, rather than question the witch's intentions. "Lead on," she said. Willow smiled gratefully and moved out of the room with Kennedy right behind her.

"I've already cleared this with Buffy," Willow explained as they descended the stairs and headed toward the front door. "She knows we're going out and she also knows that I can protect you."

Kennedy opened her mouth to respond, but quickly closed it. She wanted to say that she could protect Willow too, but she clearly remembered what had happened the last time she tried to step up and fight in the witch's place. Though she knew that she possessed strength and skill, she also knew that the witch was stronger when she chose to be. Kennedy hesitated at the doorstep. For a moment, she felt the sensation of being dragged over it again. Willow held out her hand.

"Come on," she said. Kennedy took the witch's hand and stepped over across the threshold. The last time she had wandered through the streets of Sunnydale, she had seen a plethora of dead, lonely spirits wandering around as well. She didn't necessarily relish the idea of another outing, but she could tell that whatever they were about to do was important to Willow.

"So, where are we going?" Eli asked, appearing next to Kennedy as she and Willow walked along Revello Drive, hand in hand.

"Where are we going?" Kennedy asked, voicing Eli's question to Willow.

"The cemetery," Willow replied.

"Haven't seen enough of those," Eli said jokingly.

Kennedy rolled her eyes. "What?" Willow asked.

"Just Eli," she replied.

Willow chuckled. "What's he saying?"

"He's commenting on the fact that I only ever seem to take him to graveyards anymore," Kennedy answered. "Of course, that's what you get when you befriend a Potential Slayer."

"It's like you don't care about me anymore," Eli said, mock dramatically. "We used to go to shows, dinner. Now it's all cemeteries and dark alleys."

"So why the cemetery?" Kennedy asked curiously, ignoring him.

"I'd rather get there before I explain," Willow replied, anxiety creeping back into her voice again.  
"Okay," Kennedy said quickly. "That's fine."

"What do you think she's up to?" Eli asked, eying Willow. Kennedy shook her head.

"How's your throat?" Willow asked, changing the topic.

"Alright," Kennedy said, unconsciously rubbing the bruise. "It hurts a little sometimes."

"You know," Willow said, "I could probably help with that."

"How so?" Kennedy asked. Eli chuckled to himself but didn't say anything.

"Meditative healing," Willow explained. "I can tap into the world's energies and use them to heal you."

"You can do that?" Kennedy asked in surprise.

"Yep," Willow replied modestly.

"Don't underestimate her," Eli said, gazing respectfully at the witch.

"I might have to take you up on that," Kennedy said. "I'm getting a little sick of seeing this bruise every time I look in the mirror. I walk out of the door, I'm reminded of what happened. I see a light post, I'm reminded of what happened. I don't need to be reminded every time I look at myself."

"I'm sorry," Willow said sympathetically.

Kennedy shrugged. "Don't be," she replied. "I knew what I was getting into when I agreed to pursue this lifestyle. I knew what I was getting into when I came here. Granted," she said, snorting, "I didn't think I would get strung up on a light post. But I knew that something bad could happen to me."

"It's a risk we all take," Willow commented.

"Yes, it is," Kennedy said. Willow slowed her steps. They had finally reached the cemetery.

"I'm just gonna wait out here," Eli said, sensing that what would occur within would be emotional for both women. Kennedy nodded.

"Here it is," Willow said quietly. It was a beautiful cemetery. Trees dotted the grounds, their leaves shading the plots. They walked through it until they reached an isolated, back corner. Underneath of a tree, a single stone stood.

Kennedy squinted her eyes to try to read the name on the marker. "Tara McClay," she read aloud. She instantly recognized the name and squeezed Willow's hand. "You brought me to her grave?" She asked.

"Yeah," Willow replied. "I know this may seem a little strange, but I wanted you two to meet, well, sort of." Kennedy smiled reassuringly and Willow continued. "Tara was an incredibly important part of my life. She helped me to discover who I really was. I owe a lot to her. Now she's gone," Willow said, her eyes misting over. She stopped for a moment and cleared her throat. "Now she's gone," she repeated, her voice stronger, "and I've had to learn another lesson. I've learned that I couldn't live with my heart closed to the world. I had to open my heart again."

"Willow," Kennedy said softly, "I don't expect you to forget about her. I know that she's still in your heart and she always will be."

"That's true," Willow nodded. "She will always be in my heart. But my heart is pretty big and there's plenty of room in it for you. That being said," she added, "I do feel like I need to introduce the two of you for some reason."

"I did already technically meet her," Kennedy reminded Willow. "She was in my vision."

"I know," Willow said. Sighing, she stepped forward, breaking her contact with Kennedy, and picked up a pebble. Placing it on the grave marker, she spoke. "Tara," she said. "I know it's been a little while since I've been by. But I met someone and I wanted to introduce her to you because she's important to me." Kennedy smiled at the words, but kept her distance, until Willow motioned her closer. Taking Kennedy's hand again, Willow said, "Tara, this is my girlfriend, Kennedy." Willow raised her eyebrow over at Kennedy when she said the word "girlfriend" and Kennedy nodded in approval. "Kennedy," she continued, "this is Tara."

"Nice to meet you," Kennedy said, playing along. "You don't have to worry about a thing. I'll take good care of our girl." Willow smiled at Kennedy's choice of words. "It's nice here," Kennedy commented, gazing around the graveyard. "Peaceful."

"I know," Willow said. "That's why I picked it. It doesn't feel like the other cemeteries that I've spent so much time in. I don't feel insecure or threatened here."

"Thanks for bringing me here," Kennedy said.

Willow nodded. Wiping a stray tear away, she leaned over and gently kissed her girlfriend's lips. "Ready to go home?" She asked.

………………………

"You called?" Faith asked, knocking lightly on the bedroom door. Buffy was standing by the window, her arms crossed across her chest, staring out at the blue sky stretching for miles over Sunnydale.

"I think I have a plan," Buffy stated, turning back to face her.

"Ah," Faith replied, "so business."

Buffy cleared her throat, her cheeks slowly burning red. "About that," she started.

"Oh, please don't," Faith urged. "Don't say it was a mistake or any of that bullshit. You know it wasn't."

"I know," Buffy agreed.

Faith snapped her mouth shut. "You do?" She finally asked.

"Yeah," Buffy replied, "I know that our kiss wasn't a mistake. It felt great. It felt right. But I want to take things slow."

"Slow," Faith repeated. "How slow?" She asked.

"Not epically slow," Buffy replied thoughtfully. "But you and I have to get to know each other."

"And not in the fun physical way first," Faith concluded.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed. "We've got a lot of history that we need to figure out how to deal with. I've known you for years Faith, I feel sometimes like I know you better than anyone, but I don't really know you at all. I want to change that."

"Okay," Faith agreed. "I can deal with that."

"Yeah?" Buffy asked, smiling crookedly. "Good."

"One thing though," Faith said, stepping forward.

"What?" Buffy asked, noticing how Faith continued to inch forward until they were nearly touching.

"We can still kiss right?" Faith asked.

"I don't think that'll be a problem," Buffy replied as Faith leaned down and captured her lips in a searing kiss. Just when Buffy felt like she would explode from her desire for the dark haired girl, Faith pulled away.

"Okay," Faith said, sighing a little. "Now I'm prepared to deal with business."

Buffy laughed. "Take a seat," she said, motioning toward the bed. Faith sat down. "So we need to prove to the girls that we're not leading them blindly here. We need to prove that we can tackle anything."

"I agree," Faith stated.

"Right now, we have two major enemies. The First is obviously the ultimate problem, but only Kennedy can touch it. So _we_ can't fight it. The Bringers may be dangerous, but we can handle them as well. It's the super vamps and that preacher guy that are our real problems."

"Again, I agree," Faith said.

"So we need to show that we can take on at least one of them. What I propose is this," Buffy said, sitting beside Faith. "We draw one of the super vamps to one of Xander's construction sites. Someplace that only has one entrance and one exit."

"Some place where we'll be stuck," Faith pointed out.

"Slayer dome," Buffy said dramatically. Faith grinned and shook her head. "Anyway," Buffy continued in her normal voice, "I'll be there with all of the girls. I want you to lure the vampire into the construction site. Once we're all together again, you and I will kill the vampire and prove that we're just as tough as we claim to be."

Faith sat silent for a moment. "I like it," she said slowly. "But I don't think _we_ should kill it. I think _you_ should kill it."

"Why?" Buffy asked in surprise.

"I get that we're both Slayers and all that shit," Faith said, "but the girls look to you to lead them. I'm the hot, fun one. You're the annoying, dictator."

"No, I'm not," Buffy said defensively.

"Yes, you are," Faith said humorously. "And that's okay, it turns me on," she joked. "But seriously, though," she added, "ultimately the girls look to you to keep them safe. They look to you to lead them. They need to know that _you_ can handle things."

"Okay," Buffy replied, "and not that I agree with what you're saying at all. But tabling that for a moment," she continued, "I don't really want to face this thing alone."

"Come on, B," Faith said in disbelief. "You've killed a master vampire, you've beaten down a hell goddess, you've…," she paused when she thought of the Mayor. She didn't want to bring up all of that with Buffy yet, so she moved on, letting her sentence trail off into a silence that Buffy easily interpreted. "The point is," she continued after an awkward pause, "you're a bad ass. You can take on one little vampire."

"One little vampire that almost killed you," Buffy pointed out.

"Small point," Faith argued.

Buffy sighed. "Okay," she agreed. "We'll do this your way."

Faith nodded. "This is a good thing, B," she promised.

"I hope so. But if I fail miserably, I'm blaming you." She smiled a little when Faith laughed. "So," she said, lifting her eyebrow, "let's try that kissing thing again."


	18. Death March

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter 18: Death March:

She felt like a gladiator standing in the center of the coliseum. The night had fallen hushed and warm. The wind was dead; the trees hung lifelessly and listlessly, their leaves bent toward the earth in slumber. She could hear every little sound. The sound of the wheels of the cars running endlessly on the highway miles away reached her ears as though they were next to her. The hooting of an owl reached her, the fluttering of wings, and the sound of mice sniffing and searching through the grass. A snap, a squeal, one mouse was gone and the owl flew away. The night was a time of predators, of prey, and of violence. Faith tried to steady her breathing, but she couldn't deny the anxiety rising within her. She was waiting for death.

She stood in the middle of the street, a stake tucked in the waistband of her jeans, but not to be used, never to be used, because tonight she wasn't there to fight – she was there to run. All of her instincts screamed against this plan. The Slayer within her wanted to fight. It wanted to seek vengeance for her wounded pride. A vampire had bested her. She had lived to tell the tale of it, but the Slayer wanted that vampire to suffer. It wanted to prove itself, prove its worth. But she couldn't, not tonight. No matter how much she wanted to fight, she had to restrain herself. She had to exercise that self-control with which she had always struggled but had recently discovered that she had.

"Come on," Faith murmured, bouncing back and forth on the balls of her feet. "Come and find me, you motherfucker," she whispered to the air, but there was no breeze to carry her message to any ears that might listen. She had to wait. The vampire would smell her from miles away. It would smell the Slayer and it would come. By this time, the rest of the group would be on their way to the construction site. Buffy had everything planned. Buffy, Faith, Xander, and Willow were the only ones who knew what was really happening. The others simply thought that they were going on a patrolling field trip. The Potentials thought that they were finally getting a chance to prove themselves against actual enemies. Anya, Dawn, Giles, and Spike thought that they were there to witness it all so that they could better teach the Potentials when the time came that they would need to step up in leadership roles – roles that would eventually come for everyone when the First decided to take the battle to the next level.

Faith wasn't a very patient person. She didn't like standing in the middle of the street waiting for a vampire to stroll along and take the bait. She could think of a thousand different places that she wanted to be and in each of those places she could only think of one person with whom she wanted to be. Never in her life did she think that her dream of sharing her passion with Buffy would come true. Yet, the blonde Slayer had surprised her. Now they were standing on new ground, unchartered territory. They still had many things to work out, Faith knew that. They shared too much bitter and violent history to just sweep it all under the rug. They needed to bring all of those things out into the open, but they couldn't delve into all of it at once. Over time, little things would arise to force the topics and, when they did, Faith knew that she had to open herself up to her blonde counterpart. Sharing her feelings had never been her strongest point.

She knew that she would have to change parts of herself. Being in a relationship with Buffy would be a growing experience, one that Faith knew she needed to undergo. Ultimately, she would benefit from her struggles to learn to relate to someone else on a meaningful level. She could see the end of the path, the end of the road, but she knew that it would take her a long time to reach it. Hopefully, Buffy would be by her side the whole time. However, Faith knew that she wasn't the only person who needed to change. Buffy needed to change as well. The blonde Slayer had her own difficulties, her own struggles that she needed to overcome. Despite her history of long, torturous relationships, Buffy had never been successful in maintaining a lover. Her relationships with Angel and Riley had ended in disaster. Though it tempted Buffy to think that everyone else had the problems and not her, even the blonde Slayer had to realize that something in her drove people away. Faith didn't want to become another in a list of failures. She never wanted to experience the heart breaking moment where she had to turn her back to Buffy, stare out into the unknown future, and walk into it alone.

As she was contemplating her recently improved love life, she heard a noise that caused the Slayer within her to rise up and growl. A low hissing sound reached her ears. She heard the sound of feet grating and shuffling across the road. Looking up, she saw the outline of a figure approaching her. She knew what it was without having to see it clearly. It was a vampire and not a normal vampire. This was one of the vampires that had nearly killed her. Anger boiled through her blood. She instinctively reached for the stake, but restrained herself. She had to remember her mission. She couldn't risk herself or the plan. The vampire was closing in on her, but she didn't move. She couldn't give herself away yet. It had to think that she was interested in a confrontation, but decided against it at the last minute. It had to give chase to her, thinking that she was afraid and desperate to find safety anywhere that she could.

The light of a streetlamp fell on the face of the vampire. She saw its fangs gleaming yellow and stained with red. Its face was hideous, a face that would haunt her dreams until the day she died, which she hoped would be a long time from that moment. The vampire looked eager. She tried to project fear to it. She knew that vampires could smell fear. She knew that if it felt fear from her, that fear would only make the vampire more eager to give chase. Finally, when it was almost upon her, she turned and ran. It was possibly the hardest thing she had ever done. Running from an enemy was not something that she could do easily. It was not something that the Slayer in her could do easily. Yet, she ran. Now the breeze rushed by her as she ran. The warm air turned chill. She heard the vampire following behind her. The hissing turned to panting. Glancing back, she saw drool and slobber dangling in strings from its opened mouth. She shuddered.

The streets of Sunnydale flew by her. She and Buffy had walked the route to the construction site many times earlier that afternoon. The older Slayer didn't want Faith to get lost and wind up somewhere else. Prior to their kiss, Faith would have been offended at Buffy's attitude. Now, however, she knew that Buffy was simply worried about her and that walking the route to the construction site so many times had just been Buffy's way of working through her fears. As she ran, fear now legitimately pumped through her veins. The vampire started to close in on her and she was glad that Buffy had been so methodical about plotting the course. Her feet instinctively knew where to go. She didn't think when she fought, she never did. She always acted on instinct and she was rather glad that she didn't have to think about directions as she ran. As the pavement pounded beneath her boots, she hoped that Buffy was waiting for her, ready to fight.

…………………………………

"Are you excited?" Annabelle asked as the Potentials geared up to go out for their first Sunnydale patrol together. She grabbed an axe that Buffy handed to her.

Kate and Kennedy both looked over at the other girl. Kate shrugged, her lips a taut line. She clearly remembered what had happened the last time she went wandering through Sunnydale at night. The memory of the Turok-han vampire still haunted her when she closed her eyes. "Not really," Kate mumbled, grabbing two more stakes and shoving them into ankle holsters. Annabelle looked away embarrassed and Kennedy nudged her with her elbow.

"Hey," she said quietly, "don't worry about Kate. She's had different experiences than us."

"So are you excited?" Annabelle asked hopefully.

"Sure," Kennedy lied. She didn't relish the idea of going out into the Sunnydale night and seeing what even ghastlier visions of the dead awaited her, but she was ready to do her job. Neither she nor the other Potentials knew the real reason why they were going out that night.

Xander watched the girls prepare from the doorway of the living room. Willow stood next to him. Both of them had their arms crossed over their chests. "What do you think?" Xander asked, looking over at his best friend.

"I think this is one of the most dangerous and most stupid things we've ever done," she replied, lowly enough that no one could hear her. She knew that if the Potentials overheard what they were saying they would misunderstand.

"I agree," Xander said. "But it's also necessary."

"Yes," Willow replied, "it is. There are still so many things that could go wrong tonight."

"You mean like the fact that Buffy might not be able to beat this thing?" Xander asked grimly.

"That and the fact that we're all going for a midnight stroll around Sunnydale while there's vampires and Bringers and that crazy preacher and Goddess only know what else out there too," Willow responded.

"It'll be good for the girls to get out there and see what fighting demons is really like," Xander said.

"I suppose," Willow said.

"You're worried about Kennedy?" Xander asked.

"Of course," Willow answered. "But I'm also worried about everyone else."

"Me too," Xander said.

"What's going on?" Anya asked, coming up to them.

"Girls are getting ready," Xander replied. "We're almost ready to leave." He looked over at Anya and laughed. "Are you seriously bringing all of that?" He asked, eyeing the rather impressive array of weaponry Anaya had strapped all over her. He could see several stakes, an axe was slung over her shoulder, and she held a machete in her hand.

"Yeah," Anya replied indignantly. "I'm not going out there with just a pointy piece of wood. Give me a break," she muttered. "This is stupid anyway. I don't know why I have to go. I don't fight."

"I know," Xander replied, slinging his arm over her shoulder. "But what I figured out a long time ago was that the real fighters sometimes need cheerleaders. So that's why we're going." He knew his word choice was rather odd, but he also knew that sometimes humor was the best way to beat fear.

"Let's go, guys," Buffy said, beginning to move the group toward the door.

"You're a cheerleader?" Anya asked, smirking. Xander rolled his eyes.

"Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best way to describe what we do," he argued playfully.

"No, cheerleader is good," Anya said, moving away from him and laughing as the rest of the group began to file out of the front door. "I'm just picturing you in the skirt with the pom poms. It's rather amusing. Thank you, Xander," she said, smiling at him.

Xander smiled back. The fear was gone from Anya's eyes, replaced by twinkling humor. He couldn't fight. He couldn't really research. But he knew how to keep everyone going when the enemy seemed too difficult to fight or the situation seemed too difficult to bear. "Ready to go, Will?" He asked, glancing back at his best friend.

Willow was holding Kennedy's hand. Both women nodded and moved after Xander as he left the house. They were the last two to leave. "It's gonna be fine," Willow said reassuringly.

"I know," Kennedy replied. Willow smiled. She knew that her girlfriend was hiding her fear, attempting to feign confidence. Rather than call her on it, Willow allowed her to believe that she had been fooled.

Kennedy glanced around the streets as they walked, too nervous to really look into the shadows surrounding them. She saw vague, yet terrifying shapes gawking at her in the darkness. Shifting her eyes away, she didn't want to see the wounds in the spirits of the dead. The walk was long. Half way through it, Eli appeared at her side. "Where are we going?" He asked, sauntering down the street with his hands in his pockets. The practiced walk of a wealthy man with too much leisure time on his hands.

"Where have you been?" Kennedy whispered back.

Eli looked thoughtful for a moment. "You know, I'm not really sure. Death isn't like life. You're not aware of things all the time. Sometimes I'm here, sometimes I'm not. I'm not sure where I go or what's happening when I'm not here. But then I'm back again and it's like I never left."

"Sounds confusing," Kennedy muttered.

"Did you say something?" Willow asked, looking over at her.

Kennedy smiled. "Eli," she replied. Willow nodded.

"Looks like an army," Eli commented, looking over the girls and their weapons.

"We're going on patrol," Kennedy said quietly. Willow and some of the others knew that Kennedy could see spirits of the dead. But not all of the new Potentials did. The last thing that the dark haired Slayer wanted was for the others to think differently of her because of her ability. She didn't want them to mistrust her or think that she was crazy. So she kept her ability to herself again, comfortable knowing that the people she really cared about knew about her and didn't mind.

"Patrol?" Eli asked. "Sounds exciting."

"That's one way of putting it," Kennedy replied. Willow had to admit that it was rather disconcerting to hear her girlfriend having a conversation with someone that she couldn't see but that Kennedy apparently could. Yet, Willow knew enough about the world to know that Kennedy wasn't crazy. Ghosts and demons really existed. So did Eli.

"We're almost there, guys," Buffy called. The construction site loomed in view. She sighed, hoping that Faith was alright. In just a few moments, the construction site would become a coliseum of blood and violence and she would be at the center of it.


	19. Savior

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Notes: Sorry for the delays. I've been taking two summer classes. They are over now. I will be on vacation next week, but when I return I hope to update more frequently. Thanks for your patience.

Chapter 19: Savior:

Kennedy was starting to suspect that Buffy wasn't telling them everything about their first night on patrol. The other girls hadn't seemed to notice yet that they had walked passed several cemeteries. They were chatting away nervously among themselves. Several of the girls were twirling stakes in their hands. Every once in a while, one would drop a stake, and the clattering of the wood hitting the road would reverberate through the hollows of Sunnydale's empty streets. The girl would blush, duck her head, and embarrassedly pick up the fallen weapon. Buffy didn't seem to notice these slip ups. She was focused on something else and Kennedy knew that whatever their leader was focused on was what was really going on that night.

"What's up, Will?" Kennedy asked, looking intently over at her girlfriend. "Something about this whole night seems off."

"It's not off," Willow replied, her voice a little higher than usual. She didn't like to lie to Kennedy, but she knew that Buffy wanted to keep the events of the night secret until the last possible moment.

Kennedy narrowed her eyes and searched Willow's face. "I don't believe you," she replied quietly. "Something's going on. I know you know what it is. But keep your secrets."

"No secrets," Willow said waveringly.

"Uh huh," Kennedy replied.

"She's lying," Eli reported matter-of-factly.

"I know," Kennedy said.

"You know what?" Willow asked.

"Eli said you're lying," Kennedy replied. "I agreed with him."

Willow sighed and ran a hand through her long, red hair. "Look," she said lowly, one eye on Buffy, "something _is_ going on, but I'm not supposed to tell any of the girls about it, okay? That includes you. I know you're my girlfriend and all that, but I swore Buffy I'd keep my mouth shut."

Kennedy smiled a little. "Okay," she replied. "I'll let you off the hook."

"Thanks," Willow mumbled.

"You're too easy on the girl," Eli said jokingly. "Shoulda made her squirm a little more."

Kennedy smirked, but didn't address him. "This isn't really about us, is it?" She concluded, looking over at Willow. "This is about Buffy and Faith."

"Something like that," Willow said. Reaching over, she laced her fingers through Kennedy's. "I know this isn't exactly romantic," Willow said, "walking around Sunnydale surrounded by people wielding weapons while searching for demons to kill, but I like being out with you. It's nice to get out of the house and do something for a change."

"I like it too," Kennedy said. Her eyes shined seductively and Willow blushed. She knew that Kennedy was restraining herself per Willow's request to take things slow. But sometimes when Kennedy looked at her, she wanted nothing more than to find a dark place to be alone with the younger woman and explore the feelings that the dripping sexuality in Kennedy's eyes made her feel.

"Okay, guys," Buffy announced as they reached Xander's construction site. "We're here."

"Where is here exactly?" Kate asked.

"Where we're hunting tonight," Buffy said. They entered the enclosed site and Kennedy immediately noticed that only one entrance in or out existed. They were surrounded by high walls of steel and concrete.

"I don't like this," she whispered and Willow gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

"What I want you guys to do," Buffy instructed, "is get behind those steel beams up there," she said, pointing to a mesh of ladders that led to a walkway hidden behind steel beams that ran around the entire site. "And I want you to stay there. No matter what happens down here," she said seriously, "I want you to stay there."

"I thought we were hunting," Annabelle said, raising her hand tentatively. "What happened to hunting?"

"We're not hunting," Buffy clarified. "I brought you guys out here to show you something. For some of you, you'll be seeing your first vampire. For others," she said, glancing over at Kate, "you'll be seeing possibly your worst fear. Either way, all of you need to see this. Faith and I are Slayers," she said proudly, "we can handle anything that comes at us. We can kill anything. And we're going to prove that to you tonight. _I'm_ going to prove that to you."

A murmur went through the group of girls. Kennedy glanced around and saw them nodding their heads. Buffy's words flowed through them like a strengthening elixir. "Come on," Willow said, "let's get up there and out of sight. Quickly now."

The girls started climbing the ladders. Xander led the way, testing the walkway. The site was dark and he could barely find his way. The moonlight shined weakly through the bars. When he reached the end of the first walkway, he stopped. The girls filed in behind him. Willow was the last person to climb up. Kennedy stood next to her. She looked down the line of people and saw Spike's vampire eyes shining yellow in the dark. Dawn stood next to him, her face worried, but resolute. She had faith in her sister.

Silence filled the construction site as they waited. Kennedy heard Willow breathing quickly next to her and she realized that her girlfriend was nervous about something. "What's wrong?" She asked.

Willow looked over at her. "It's just…if this doesn't go well," she said quietly, so that no one else would hear her, "Buffy wants me to take care of the vampire."

"Take care of it?" Kennedy asked.

"Magic," Willow replied. "I can't kill it on my own, but I can kill it with magic."

"What about Faith?" Kennedy asked. "Couldn't she kill it."

"If Buffy can't," Willow answered, "she doesn't think that Faith can either. And she doesn't want Faith getting herself killed fighting angrily and sloppily. She knows thinks that I can handle it."

"What do you think?" Kennedy replied.

"I don't really know," Willow admitted.

"Don't worry," Kennedy said. "I'm here." She laid her hand on the small of Willow's back. "I'm with you."

Before Willow could respond, they heard the distinct sound of someone running down the street. Buffy tensed. She could feel Faith running toward her. She could feel the vampire running behind the dark haired Slayer. All of her muscles were ready to fight. She felt the Slayer rearing up inside of her. She wanted to yell, scream, stomp. But she held in her emotions. She always did. She felt a tangible darkness creeping into her soul. The Slayer was death; she was death. But she could accept that now. She wasn't alone anymore. Faith was back. The two Slayers were reunited and she felt as though finally everyone was back in order in the universe.

She saw Faith round the bend. Sweat glistened on her forehead. She wore a fierce look of concentration. Behind her, the vampire lumbered along at an alarmingly fast rate. Faith charged into the arena created by the construction site, ran past Buffy, and leaped through the air. She grabbed onto the steel bars behind which the others were hiding and looked down at the blonde Slayer. "Coming fast, B. Be ready."

Buffy smiled slightly and nodded. "I'm ready," she said. The vampire entered just as Faith slid through the bars next to Kennedy.

Buffy pulled out her stake. The vampire charged at her. She was aware of everything at once. She was aware of the silence. The moonlight slid across the ground. She was aware of the vampire hissing. She could smell death on it. The wood of the stake seemed to splinter into her skin. It charged. She ducked and hit it in the back of the head, but hitting the vampire was like hitting steel. Pain flared through her bones. But she didn't let the pain show on her face. She knew that Faith could feel it too, but the others didn't need to know.

The vampire swung at her, connecting with her jaw. She felt a pop and more pain. She swept its feet out from under it. It fell to the ground but was on its feet again in seconds. She tried to stake it, taking advantage of its momentary weakness. But the stake broke off on its chest. The vampire was too strong. Immediately, she knew that her conventional weapons weren't going to work. The stakes were useless. She didn't have a sword. A crossbow wouldn't work. She had to think creatively. She could sense the disappointment of everyone around her. When that stake broke off, they all suddenly thought that she couldn't do it – she couldn't beat it. Maybe the thought only lasted for a second, maybe it lingered in their minds even now.

The vampire grabbed her and tossed her across the construction site. She landed in the dirt, dust billowing up in front of her eyes. Her ribs throbbed. She could barely see. She started coughing and couldn't stop. She was beginning to think that her idea hadn't been such a great one. More than ever, she wanted Faith by her side. But she had to do this alone. Looking up, she noticed a chain hanging down a few feet over her head. The vampire was charging at her again. Acting instinctively, she grabbed the chain, jumped over the vampire's head, and landed behind him. Before it could turn, she wrapped the chain around its neck and tightened it. She felt it start to panic. She felt all of its muscles tense. The vampire knew that it was going to lose in that moment just as Buffy knew she was going to win. The chain cut into its skin, slashing through layers of muscle and tissue and bone. She heard it choking. Then suddenly she stumbled forward. The vampire slumped and fell; its head lolled to the side and snapped off. It turned to dust.

She stood bloodied and bruised in the Slayer dome, as she had coined it, with a pile of dust at her feet. She could feel the energy behind her rising as the others realized what had just happened. Their greatest fear – this vampire that seemingly couldn't be beaten – was dead and Buffy had killed it. She knew that she was right. She had to prove herself to them. She couldn't expect them to just follow her blindly. They needed to see. Now they had. They had all seen. She was the Slayer and she would save them.


	20. Untouchable

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty: Untouchable:

"That was awesome," Molly commented as they walked back to the house. A new energy sizzled in the air. The Potentials were abuzz with it.

"Did you see when she kicked its legs out from under it? She looked like a ninja or something," Annabelle said.

"That thing with the stake was a bit troublesome," Kate interrupted.

"Bah," Molly waved her off, "stake-smake. She kicked its ass."

Kate threw up her hands to ward off an argument and nodded. "Yes, she did."

"What do you think, Kennedy?" Annabelle asked.

Kennedy hesitated before answering. "I feel a lot better about our chances," she lied. In truth, watching Buffy kill the uber-vampire had been relieving. Any doubts she had harbored about the inefficiency of Buffy as a Slayer vanished. Yet, not all calm reigned in her heart. Visions from her dreams and experiences in the Tower still lingered behind her eyelids. She knew something of what was to come and she knew that it wouldn't end well – especially for her.

"You're lying," Eli stated.

Kennedy fell back, allowing the other girls to walk ahead of her. Willow was talking with Xander and Anya, relieved that the responsibility to saving them had been lifted from her shoulders. Faith and Buffy walked in the back with others just ahead of them. For the moment, 

Kennedy was alone and she could speak freely with her invisible compatriot. "I know," she replied.

"Why?" Eli asked curiously.

"You're lucky you're already dead," Kennedy mumbled.

"Yes, I praise God for that every day," Eli shot back sarcastically. "What's going on? I've known you for years, K. I know when you're not alright."

"It's just…," Kennedy hesitated. "I have a bad feeling about things."

"Things?" Eli asked. "As in things dealing with the apocalypse or things dealing with your budding romance with the red head?"

"Things dealing with the apocalypse," Kennedy rolled her eyes at him. "I'm confident in all of my romantic endeavors."  
"God knows," Eli joked.

"Anyway," Kennedy continued, ignoring him, "I just don't think winning this fight is going to be so simple. It's great – Buffy can kill the uber-vamp. But can she kill thousands of them?" She asked in a low hiss.

"Thousands?" Eli asked.

"That's how many I saw in my visions," Kennedy replied. "And if that's how many we're really up against, we're all going to die."  
Molly looked back at Kennedy, who was walking some feet behind them, seemingly 

talking to herself, though she couldn't hear the words. "What's she doing?" She asked, nudging Annabelle with her elbow.

"Talking to the dead," Kate answered for the other girl.

"Oh yeah," Molly said, "she can see ghosts and stuff."

"That's a bit creepy if you ask me," Annabelle said. "Besides, I'm not sure it's all true. She could just be covering her ass for being insane."

Molly snorted and laughed. "Well, whatever is really going on, the 'I see dead people' line sure got her in good with Willow and the others."

"Leave her alone," Kate said, sensing resentment building. "She's got enough to worry about."

"I think it's got her in good with Kate too," Molly murmured.

In the back, Faith and Buffy walked side by side. "You did good, B," Faith said softly. "Really kicked its ass."

"No, I didn't," Buffy replied modestly. "It kicked my ass and somehow I managed to kill it."

Faith shook her head and laughed. "Take some credit, girl, you did a good thing."

Buffy sighed. "I know," she answered, troubled. "But one good thing won't kill the First and win this war for us."

"It's a good start," Faith replied.

"Thanks," Buffy grinned slightly over at her. "You did good too, you know."

"Me?" Faith asked, pointing to herself. Waving dismissively, she said, "Nah, I just did a little jogging that's all."

Buffy smiled and nodded. "Well, thanks for jogging then."

"No problem, B," Faith said and winked. They locked eyes for a moment. Buffy knew how amped Faith was. She didn't need any jokes about the hungry and horny to know that. She saw so much need and desire in her eyes that for a moment she couldn't breathe. The same must have been shining in hers because she saw mirrored in her sister Slayer's the recognition of mutual want.

They reached the house and the group dispersed. Some went to the kitchen to prepare late night snacks. Others went straight to bed. Faith lingered on the staircase as Buffy pulled Willow aside and took her into the dining room to talk. Buffy wanted to take things slow in their relationship and Faith could respect that. "Willow?" Buffy asked, grabbing her best friend by the elbow as she walked by with Kennedy.

"Yeah, Buff?"

"Can I talk to you a minute?" She asked, nodding toward the empty dining room.

Willow looked back at Kennedy, who nodded. "I'm just gonna get some air on the back step," Kennedy said.

"Okay," Willow said. Turning back to Buffy, she nodded. "Let's talk."

They went into the dining room, Buffy closing the door behind them, and took a seat at the table. "So…," Willow said.

"Firstly," Buffy started, "I need to apologize."

"For what?" Willow asked.

"Well," Buffy said, uncertain of her words. She knew what she wanted to say, just not how to say it. "Ever since I kicked the bucket," she began and saw Willow flinch slightly. Mentally kicking herself, she pressed on, "I know I haven't exactly been there for you. Or anyone. Not really anyone. Especially not Dawn," she murmured to herself.

"Buffy," Willow tried to interrupt, but the Slayer shook her head.

"Apologizing here," she stated. "Let me get on with it."

"Fair enough," Willow said.

"I haven't been a good best friend to you," Buffy said. "And I know it's a little selfish to ask for my best friend back now when I've been totally absent, but I need to talk with you about something that falls directly into the best friend zone."

"You know," Willow stated, "it's not totally your fault."

"How so?" Buffy asked, tilting her head.

"I did try to end the world and all that," Willow reminded her. "Went off to England, royally screwed up all of my relationships."

"There was that," Buffy agreed. "But I'm the one taking blame tonight."

"Then I'll be the one listening tonight," Willow said. "What's going on?"

"Promise me you won't flip out," Buffy said seriously.

"You can't just preface by telling someone not to flip out. That preconditions me to flip out," Willow argued.

"Please?" Buffy asked.

"Fine," Willow agreed. "I swear I won't flip out."

"Okay," Buffy said, taking a deep breath and leaning closer to her friend. She looked around, making sure that no one else had slipped into the room or cracked the door. "Faith and I kind of have this thing going on."

"What kind of thing?" Willow asked.

"Like a romantic thing," Buffy elaborated.

"Buffy!" Willow started, but Buffy cut in.

"Remember what you promised," she said.

Willow sighed and visibly calmed herself. "You and Faith have a romantic thing going on," she stated, attempting to process that information. "Okay," she said. "I think everyone can see that Faith has changed. I can't necessarily forget anything she did, just as I wouldn't want any of you to forget what I did. Someone has to remember to prevent it from happening again. But I can't very well never forgive her because I've screwed up my fair share as well. So," she stopped and searched Buffy's face, "what kind of romantic feelings are we talking about here?"

"Definitely attraction," Buffy stated. "Intense, mind blowing attraction."

Willow cleared her throat and shifted a bit uncomfortably. "Okay, that's a good start," she commented.

"And it's more than that too," Buffy said. "I think I've always felt something for her, but I've never known how to deal with it. And she always came around at really bad times. But now it's just the two of us, there's no one else standing in the way. I really care about her, Will," Buffy concluded.

"Do you love her?" Willow asked.

"I don't know," Buffy said. "I think I do."

"Okay," Willow nodded thoughtfully. "How does Faith feel about you?"

"She agreed to take things slow with me, which is a positive sign. If she just wanted to fuck and run, she wouldn't have bothered with the slow train," Buffy said.

"I agree," Willow stated.

"It's just hard," Buffy sighed. "I want to forgive her for everything, but a part of me took it extremely personally, I guess because I always had these feelings for her. I felt like she should have known and should have acted differently. But really I think I was expecting her to read my mind or something. She couldn't have known what I felt. God knows I never let on. But the even harder part is that I just want to give in totally. I want to be with her. I told her that we need to take things slow, but I want to break my own rule."  
"You want my advice, from a fellow proponent of the 'take-things-slow-rule'?" Willow asked.

Buffy nodded. "Yes," she said.

"Stick to the rule," Willow replied earnestly. "You may want to break it a thousand times over, but ultimately, the relationship means more if you can build a solid foundation to it first."

Buffy sighed and smiled. "Thanks, Will. I knew I could count on you for some good best friend advice."

Willow smiled back. "That's what I'm here for."

……………………..

The First watched as Kennedy opened the back door and silently closed it behind her. The Potential wrapped her arms around herself and gazed up into the night sky. The stars twinkled above them, all dead, so pretty, so extinct. The girl sat down on the step and sighed heavily. The First smiled. Despite the elation in the Summers house, not everyone was feeling the comfort of relief or hope. The First fed on that. Kennedy's doubt and insecurity only made it stronger. From the shadows, it moved closer. Kennedy intrigued it more than it liked to admit. No human had ever touched it before. But Kennedy had reached out and grabbed it like just some passerby. The First had worried about the images the girl had seen, but now, it had a different aim in mind. It knew that Kennedy was having a difficult time expressing everything that she had seen. Perhaps it was time to introduce some new visions into her brain – things so terrifying and, completely untrue, that she wouldn't be able to deal with them.

"You don't look so happy considering what a profound victory your people just had," the First said sarcastically.

Kennedy looked up. The First was wearing Buffy's face again. "Great," she murmured. "It's you."

"I'm hurt," the First declared. "I thought you liked seeing me."

"You're quite mistaken if you thought that," Kennedy shot back, rising to her feet. The First continued to move forward until it was within arm's reach of the Potential.

"That's okay," the First replied. "I won't take it personally. I'm above needing people like you."

"But how powerful are you really?" Kennedy questioned. "You can't even touch anything, except me. For all I know, I'm the only one who can touch you. And I've gotta say, I've seen you in many faces and so has everyone else. But there's one face I haven't seen you wear. One that you know would hurt so many people in this house. Why can't you wear hers?" Kennedy asked. "I don't think you choose not to. I just think that you can't."

"Tara," the First spat. "That's who you're talking about right?"

"Yeah," Kennedy answered.

"You're right," the First replied. "If I could wear her face, I would. And I would appear at Willow's bedside every night to torment her. She would never even look at you again if I could wear Tara's face. That witch would follow me anywhere for just the hope that she could see her lover again. But Tara was too pure. Nothing evil can enter her. Nothing evil can even wear the guise of her."

"So you aren't omnipotent then," Kennedy said. "You like to play God, but you aren't."

"I'm powerful enough," the First sneered.

"If that's what you need to tell yourself," Kennedy said.

"You want to see my power?" The First asked, stepping closer. Kennedy felt the urge to open the door and slip into the house to retreat, but she didn't want to show weakness in front of her enemy. "I'll show you my power," the First declared. Shooting out its hand, it latched onto Kennedy's arm. A barrage of images invaded the Potential's mind and raced through her consciousness, images so horrifying, so painful, so morbid that she started screaming and the only thing that stopped her screaming was the blackness that filled her vision. She slumped to the ground, unconscious, but not freed from the images the First had planted into her mind. They tortured her even in her unconscious state.

Buffy and Willow, having heard the screams, were the first to reach the back door. When Buffy threw it open, she came face to face with herself. "What are you doing here?" She growled at the First. Willow saw Kennedy and snuck by the blonde Slayer.

"Buffy," she said, tears in her eyes. "She's out. I can't wake her up." Kennedy lay on the ground, her eyes rolled back in her head, her hand twitching slightly.

"What did you do?" Buffy asked.

"She can see, right? She can see things other can't," the First stated. "So I let her see. I let her see everything. And it broke her."

"Buffy," Willow pleaded again.

"Giles!" Buffy called back over her shoulder.

"Just remember, Slayer," the First said, smiling with the knowledge of something planned that the Slayer knew nothing about, "you and yours aren't so untouchable as you'd like to think."


	21. Apocalypse

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter 21: Apocalypse:

"What's wrong with her?" Anya asked. The Scooby Gang sat gathered around Willow's bed, on which Kennedy lie, unconscious and fitfully twitching. The Potentials were in the basement with Spike, whom Buffy had given the job of reassuring and protecting the girls while the rest of them tended to Kennedy. Willow sat by her girlfriend's side, holding her hand, stroking her hair, and not saying a word.

"Let's go over this again," Giles said seriously.

"We've been over it three times now," Buffy stated impatiently. "We need answers, not more talk."

"Tell me everything you saw one more time," Giles replied sternly.

Buffy sighed. "We heard a scream," she said. "We were talking in the dining room. When we heard Kennedy scream, we ran into the kitchen. I didn't see anything out of the window. When I opened the door, I saw Kennedy slumped over on the stairs, unconscious, her hand twitching like she is now, and the First Evil was standing over her."

Giles nodded, removed his glasses, and wiped them on his shirt. "And that's all?" He asked.

"That's all," Buffy replied.

"Will?" Xander asked, laying his hand on her shoulder. "Do you have anything to add?" She was incredibly tense, her muscles ready to burst. But she said nothing. She didn't even 

move. For a moment, Xander contemplated repeating his words, thinking that perhaps she simply hadn't heard him, but he knew that she had and that she didn't want to talk.

"Giles?" Buffy asked, focusing on her Watcher. He always had all of the answers; he needed to have the answers.

"I can't honestly say I know what's wrong," he began, much to Buffy's disappointment. "Dawn? Xander? Do either of you have any theories?" Giles had been training them in the ways of the Watchers. He had his own theories about what might have happened to Kennedy, but he wanted to see if his two pupils could piece together the evidence for themselves.

Xander shook his head. "Not at the moment," he replied, knowing that his answer wasn't what Giles had wanted to hear.

Dawn stood silent for a few moments. "I think I do," she said hesitantly. She looked over at Giles, who nodded to her encouragingly. "Well," she started slowly, "we all know that Kennedy and the First have a unique relationship. The First is incorporeal to everyone but Kennedy. I think it's safe to assume that she is the only person in this world who can touch it, at least, that we know of."

"I agree," Giles stated. He slipped on his glasses again.

"I also think it's safe to assume that if Kennedy can touch the First, the First can touch Kennedy. That it's incorporeal means that no one can touch it, but that also means that it can't touch anyone either. However, if Kennedy can break that rule with the First, the First should be able to break that rule with Kennedy," Dawn explained.

"So what conclusion can we draw?" Giles asked, proud of his student.

"The First touched Kennedy," Dawn surmised. "When Kennedy touched the First, she inadvertently saw what it was thinking, or what it had planned out in its mind. That was useful to us. But, what if when the First touched Kennedy, it planted something in her mind? What if just by touching her, it caused her to experience such a rush of images, or such terrible images, that the simple touch rendered her comatose?" Dawn asked.

Giles nodded. "I believe Dawn may have hit the nail on the head so to speak," he answered. "That would also be my best guess as to what happened."

"So how do we reverse it?" Faith asked. "I mean, we can't just leave her like this. We need her."

"I don't know if we can," Giles replied slowly. "Which is not to say," he added when Buffy opened her mouth to protest, "that we can't. I'm just saying that at this point in time, I need to do some research. I'm a bit out of my league here. We've never dealt with anything like the First before and we've never dealt with anyone like Kennedy before. Her ability and the First's abilities may never have been matched before in history. We could be witnessing a unique battle between them. I just don't know."

"Then hit the books, Giles," Buffy instructed.

Giles nodded and motioned for Xander and Dawn to accompany him. "Do you want me to do anything?" Anya offered.

"Go down with Spike and keep the girls entertained," Buffy said.

"Oh! I know," Anya said to herself as she left the room, "I can give them the third part of my lecture series on the stock market. Every one of them should be millionaires by the time I'm done."

"It's gonna be okay, B," Faith said, moving over to the blonde Slayer and throwing her arm around her shoulders. Buffy leaned into the embrace.

"I don't know," she whispered back to Faith. "Look at Willow. She hasn't said anything since this happened. She's not turning black and veiny, but how do we know she's not steps away from losing it again?"

Buffy's words were truer to the mark than she realized. As Willow sat by Kennedy's side, drawing comforting circles on her hand, she thought dark, malicious thoughts. She wanted more than anything the opportunity to find the First and make it suffer. The First was powerful, but Willow knew that if she tapped into her dark magic again, she would be more powerful. In a greedier person, that power would have been disastrous. But in Willow, it lay dormant. She knew that it was there, available for her to tap into at any time, but she tried to ignore it. She tried to push its temptations out of her mind. Now, as she stood on the threshold of potentially losing yet another lover to the fight against evil, the desire to give into temptation and access all of the power within her was great, perhaps too great for her to ignore.

Kennedy, unlike some coma victims, was completely unaware of everything happening around her. Her mind was lost in the labyrinth of horror that the First had created. The streets she walked on were gushing rivers of blood. The sky was alight with dancing flames. Screams filled the air. Smoke poured out of ruined buildings. The rubble of human civilization was all around her. She was seeing the devastating effects of the First's victory over the earth. She 

stumbled and she ran. Chunks of human flesh stopped up the sewer drains and the blood flooded every building. Acid rain poured out of the sky, burning her flesh. She ran without knowing where she was or where she was going. She couldn't find any safe harbor. The screams grew louder. She saw charred bodies littering the streets, being drowned in the perpetual flow of blood. She saw other victims of the First's power wandering mangled, confused, half-dead through the streets of the ghost town she occupied.

Finally, she found a building elevated above the flow of blood and forced her way into it. The door broke into pieces when she applied pressure to it. Entering the darkened building, she gagged and covered her nose. The sour smell of rotting human flesh invaded her senses. Grabbing her stomach, she vomited in a corner. But she couldn't leave. It was the only place of relative safety she had seen. Corpses littered the floor and she had to worm her way around them. Flies buzzed incessantly above the rotting flesh, eating the remains of men, women, and children alike. She saw a mangy dog wander in from a back room, chomping on the blackened body of an infant. Shuddering, she turned away and mounted the stairs. More bodies littered the staircase and she had to step on them to ascend. Blood and black ooze squirted out of the bodies as her boots lighted on them. She paused, feeling sick again, but the waves of nauseousness passed and she kept moving.

The second floor was no better than the first, but the third floor contained fewer bodies than the other two. She inspected all of the rooms until she found a closet empty of death. Settling into the back corner, she closed the door and wrapped her arms around her knees. She was alone, terrified, and confused. She didn't know how she had come to this place. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know what had happened to the world. "Eli?" She called 

hopefully, but she heard nothing in response. "Eli? Are you out there? Please be out there," she begged. Still, only silence greeted her voice. In the darkened closet, she wept.

The sounds of her sobbing drew another. Gently sliding back the closet door, a woman with long blonde hair knelt down in front of her. "Kennedy," Tara whispered quietly.

Kennedy heard her voice and looked up. "I remember you," she said, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. "I saw you in the Tower. You're Tara," she said, searching her memory. The names of people and places she had known seemed far away from her, just distant memories barely glimmering on the horizon of time. "Willow's old girlfriend."

"That's right," Tara said, sitting down next to Kennedy and drawing the door closed again to ward off the sight of the decaying flesh in the room beyond.

"What are you doing here?" Kennedy asked, gazing over at her.

"I'm here because you're here," Tara replied. "I was your guide in the Tower; I'll be your guide here too."

"Where is here?" Kennedy asked. Tara shifted closer to the trembling girl and pulled her into a warm embrace. Kennedy buried her face in Tara's shirt and relished the moment of comfort she received.

"You're in Sunnydale," Tara answered.

"It doesn't look like Sunnydale," Kennedy replied, though she couldn't entirely remember what Sunnydale looked like in the first place. She couldn't remember much really.

"No, it doesn't," Tara agreed. "This Sunnydale has been ravaged by the First Evil."

Those words sparked something deep in Kennedy's consciousness. "The First Evil," she repeated thoughtfully.

"Yes," Tara said. "The First Evil is the reason why you're here," she stated. "It sent you here."

"How?" Kennedy asked.

"Just by touching you," Tara replied. "It planted these images, of the destruction of Sunnydale and mankind, into your mind to keep you paralyzed, unconscious, and out of its way. You see, Kennedy," she said, "it fears you."

"Why?" Kennedy asked.

"You're the only person who can touch it," Tara answered lowly. "You're the only person who can kill it."

Kennedy allowed those words to wash over her. "How?"

"Just like killing anything else," Tara replied. "You pierce its heart."

"Okay," Kennedy nodded. Her tears started to dry. "I can kill it," she repeated. "But I can't kill it here."

"No, you can't," Tara confirmed.

"So how do we get out of here?" Kennedy asked.

Tara smiled. "_We_ can't get out of here. I'm dead, remember?" She asked, laughing softly. "I can't go where you can go. But you have to get out of here."

"But how?" Kennedy asked.

Tara's smiled faded. "I don't know," she replied.

"But you're my guide," Kennedy protested. "Aren't you supposed to know?"  
"There isn't a handbook for this," Tara answered.

"Okay," Kennedy said. "So what do we do?"

"Sleep for now," Tara said. "Gather your strength. When the feeble dawn of this world breaks, we'll try to find a way to get you home." Kennedy nodded and closed her eyes. Despite the screaming and the foul stench of the building, she quickly fell asleep, wrapped in Tara's protective arms, under Tara's watchful gaze.

……………………………

After a long night, Buffy lay down to sleep on her bed with the first of the sun's rays just peeking over the horizon. They were no closer to finding a way of bringing Kennedy out of her coma. They were no closer to prompting Willow to talk. That night was supposed to be their night of victory – though a small one – over the First. Instead, it had become yet another night of fear and uncertainty. The Potentials had lost whatever hope Buffy's defeat of the uber-vampire had given them. They had seen firsthand how easily the First could affect their lives. Just by reaching out and touching Kennedy, it had rendered her useless. Buffy sighed and closed her eyes. She hoped by the time she woke up, Giles, Dawn, and Xander would have found something.

She fell asleep, into a dreamless world. While she slept, the First Evil watched over her, wearing her face. "Sleep, little Slayer," it murmured. "Sleep." Moving closer to her, its face 

hovered just inches above hers, its mouth just by her ear. "I've given Kennedy terrible visions of the future. Now let me give you something too," it said. "When you wake up, you're going to be energized. You're going to see this in a brand new light. Now is the time for action. Now is the time to strike back against the First," it whispered into her ear. "I want you to start spying on me. See things you hadn't noticed before. See how my Bringers are setting up an arsenal at the school. Go after it. Don't think of the consequences. Walk right into my trap," it said. "Walk right in and don't even think."

Buffy awoke several hours later, feeling more refreshed and energized than she had in months. Stretching her arms, she felt a renewed sense of purpose flow through her veins. They would have to be more proactive against the First. No more sitting around and waiting for it to strike. They were going to go on the offensive and they would start by sending out teams to spy on the First. Buffy wanted to know what it was doing. She wanted to know where she could strike, where the First was the weakest. She had no idea that the things she wanted she only wanted because the First had told her to want them.


	22. Something Wicked This Way Comes

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty-Two: Something Wicked This Way Comes:

Faith stepped out of the shower, her hair still wet, moisture clinging to her tanned skin. The rest of the girls would be angry when they realized that she had used the last of the warm water, but she didn't care. She still wasn't accustomed to thinking about others. The mirror was fogged over and, as the droplets of water began to evaporate off of her skin, she began to feel cold. Wrapping her towel around her body, she buried her face in its cottony folds and sighed. Coming back to Sunnydale had been one of the most difficult decisions of her life. Despite Buffy's initially chilly reception of her, Sunnydale had become a place of great happiness to her. She suspected that Buffy had told Willow about their relationship the night before and, as she hadn't been turned into a rat yet, she assumed that Willow now accepted Faith as a member of the group.

Though she was happy about her progress with Buffy, Sunnydale still held the same pain and potential for pain as it had always held. For every good event, a bad one seemed to arise. Faith and Buffy were finally together, but Kennedy and Willow had been rent asunder. "Something wicked this way comes," Faith murmured to herself. Those words should have been the town motto. Good and bad were so intimately intertwined that nothing could happen without the stain of the other. It was exhausting. Every day, Faith felt the urge to leave. Life someplace else always seemed infinitely easier than life in Sunnydale, with all of its personal complications and violently abrupt changes. The rollercoaster was starting to become wearying. Faith dried off her body and slipped on her clothes.

Opening the bathroom door, she smirked at Dawn and said, "Sorry, kiddo, but I think you ought to wait until tonight."

"Damn it, Faith," Dawn muttered, wiping sleep from her eyes. "Did you use all the hot water?"

"Gotta get up earlier," Faith said cheerily, patting her on the back. "Besides, I never got any hot water in the slammer; I think I'm due for some." Dawn mumbled something that Faith couldn't quite hear and walked into the bathroom as Faith exited, slamming the door behind her. Faith chuckled and continued on to the bedroom that she was sharing with Dawn. She opened the door, consumed in thought, and closed it behind her. Moving over to the closet, she failed to notice the figure lying on the bed. She hung up her towel and turned, almost yelling in surprise when she saw Buffy lying on the bed, clothed only in her bra and panties.

"Christ, Buffy," she said breathlessly, "what are you doing in here? Dawn could have walked right in."

"So let her," Buffy replied, her voice tinged with seduction. "Or better yet," she said, leaning forward and slowly crawling across the bed toward Faith, her nipples barely covered by the thin, red fabric, "lock the door."

Faith swallowed hard, unable to tear her gaze from Buffy's body. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Probably should do that."

Buffy sat up, so that she was kneeling on the bed. Her hair tumbled down her back, her eyes were painted dark. She was breathing heavily, in anticipation, in desire. Faith's eyes traveled from the smooth skin of her breasts, down her taut stomach, to the lacey red panties that 

just covered what Faith really wanted to see. "You gonna lock that door or what?" Buffy murmured, running her hands over her breasts. Faith could see her nipples hardening under the fabric.

Despite the desire nearly overwhelming her, Faith hesitated. "Hold on, B," she said, taking a step back. "What happened to taking it slow and all that shit?"

"Maybe I don't want to take it slow anymore," Buffy pouted. "Maybe I want to take it fast now."

"Uh huh," Faith replied, gazing at her curiously.

"Don't believe me?" Buffy asked. Her eyes filled with sex as she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. It fell onto the bed, revealing her ample breasts. Faith took a deep breath. She stepped forward until she stood directly in front of Buffy. Leaning down, she gazed into her eyes. They were blank underneath it all.

"No," she said, "I don't believe you." Reaching out, she attempted to touch the side of Buffy's face, but her hand went through into nothingness.

The First Evil smirked. "Damn," it murmured, moving away from Faith. The bra that had been lying on the bed disappeared as though it had never existed in the first place. When Faith looked back over at the First, it was fully clothed, though still wearing Buffy's face. "I really thought I had you there," it commented. "I was wondering how far I could take it before you would start to get suspicious."

"Maybe I'm just onto you is all," Faith replied.

"Maybe you are," the First grinned evilly. "But for one second there, admit it, you thought you were finally getting what you want most – what keeps being denied to you. She can say that she cares for you all she wants, but you're never going to truly believe it until she proves it, are you Faith?" It questioned. "You're never going to believe it until she lets you ravage her and destroy her like you destroy everything else."

"It's not like that," Faith protested.

"Really?" The First asked, circling around her. "I know you, Faith. I know everything about you. I know the evil that lurks inside of you still. And I know that you, Faith, of all people in this world, can't make love. It's not in you. No, you destroy things. You take things. You take from people and keep what you want and throw out the rest. You fuck, Faith, you don't make love. And Buffy needs someone who can make love to her, doesn't she? She doesn't need just another fuck."

"Go away," Faith ground out roughly. The First smiled.

"As you wish," it said and disappeared.

Faith closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. Behind her, someone knocked on the bedroom door. "Faith, are you in there?" She heard Buffy call.

"Yeah," Faith replied tiredly.

"Are you decent?" Buffy asked.

Faith laughed humorlessly. "Depends on who you ask," she murmured.

"What?" Buffy said, her voice small through the door. "I couldn't hear you."

"Come on in," Faith replied.

The door opened and Buffy stepped in. The heat of her arousal still had Faith's face flushed and Buffy looked at her quizzically. Faith couldn't help but shift her eyes down Buffy's body. Turning quickly away, she started putting away her sleeping bag.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked, moving over to help her. They rolled it up and Faith tied it.

"Sure," she replied, not looking Buffy in the eyes.

"Sure isn't really an answer," Buffy said.

"It's my answer," Faith shot back.

"Faith," Buffy said, reaching over and lifting her chin. "Seriously, are you okay?"

Faith sighed and moved away from her. "I'm fine."

"You're not acting fine," Buffy said.

"What did you want, B?" She asked, exasperated.

"You're having second thoughts, aren't you?" Buffy asked, her voice suddenly vulnerable. "That's why you don't want to be near me. Oh God," Buffy said, moving toward the door.

"Wait," Faith said, reaching out and grabbing her arm, "hold up there, princess. I never said that."

"Okay," Buffy said, blinking away the tears that had sprung up in her eyes. "So what's going on?"

Faith sighed, opting for honesty. "The First was just in here playing around with my head," she admitted.

"Oh," Buffy said, her eyes now shining with concern. "What did it say?" She asked, curious despite herself.

"Nothing important," Faith said dismissively, though she knew that Buffy didn't believe her.

"So that's why you're acting all weird?" Buffy said knowingly. "Because it said absolutely nothing important."

"You know what it does," Faith replied, "it tries to prey on your doubts and fears."

"You can talk to me, you know?" Buffy said, stepping forward and touching Faith's arm lightly. When Faith didn't move away, she ran her hand up the dark haired girl's arm until it rested against her neck. Faith thought for a moment about what the First had done and a slight redness crept into her face. "Are you blushing?" Buffy asked in confusion.

"No," Faith replied quickly, shaking her head. "Maybe a little," she admitted, feeling the heat in her face.

"Why?" Buffy asked.

"Try not to freak out, okay?" Faith said.

"Okay," Buffy nodded.

"You know how the First likes to look like you, right?" Faith asked. Buffy nodded again. "Well, it came to me looking like you."

"And said horrible things," Buffy concluded.

"It did say horrible things, yes," Faith agreed, "but it also did something else."

"What?" Buffy asked, dread creeping into her.

"It sort of….well, it's a little hard to explain," Faith replied.

"Try," Buffy stated.

"It stripped," Faith blurted out.

Silence greeted her words. Buffy stared at her blankly for a few moments before turning bright red. "It stripped?" She asked, her voice much higher than it should have been. "It stripped as me?"

"Yeah," Faith said, wincing a little when she sensed that Buffy's embarrassment was turning into anger.

"So you saw everything?" Buffy asked.

"No," Faith replied. "It kept your…its…panties on."

"Oh. My. God," Buffy said, throwing up her arms and groaning in anger. "And you looked?!" She asked.

"You're seriously not mad at me," Faith stated. "I didn't do anything wrong. In fact," she added, "I knew it wasn't you almost right away."

"Almost?" Buffy snorted.

"Hey," Faith shot back, "give me a break. For a split second there, I thought you actually wanted to be with me."

Buffy sighed. "I do want to be with you," she said, moving back over to Faith. "I do. I just don't know that I'm ready for that step yet."

"I know," Faith said. "And I'm cool with that. But don't get pissed at me for hoping."

"I'm sorry," Buffy said. "I didn't mean to get angry with you."

"Besides, B," Faith said, "you don't have anything to worry about. I liked what I saw and I'll like it a whole lot better when it's for real."

Buffy blushed again and looked down, clearing her throat. "Okay," she said. "So we're good then?"

"We're good," Faith confirmed.

"Good," Buffy repeated. "Because I did have something I wanted to talk to you about before I came in here."

"What's up?" Faith asked.

"We need a new strategy for the First. We've gotta go out there and find out what it's doing," Buffy said.

"Like spy on it?" Faith asked.

"Yeah," Buffy agreed.

"Doesn't sound like a bad idea," Faith said thoughtfully. "I mean, all it does is spy on us. Maybe it's time we returned the favor."

"And who knows," Buffy said. "Maybe we'll find something that can help us. Even better," she added, "maybe we can find something that can help us wake Kennedy up."

Faith nodded. "She's still out?"

"Oh yeah," Buffy said. "Willow's not taking it well."

"We'll get her back," Faith said, though doubt lingered in her voice.

"This morning, we're going to survey the town, see if we can't spot ourselves some Bringers. And I want to check out the high school. The Hellmouth is still right underneath of it. That's gotta be factoring into this somehow."

"Slayers on the move," Faith said, "I like it."

……………………………

Kennedy awoke from a troubled sleep in Tara's comforting arms. For a moment, she didn't know where she was. But when she looked around, she realized that she was back inside of her own mind seeing the visions of the future that the First wanted her to see. "I don't know if I can do this," she murmured to herself.

"Of course you can," Tara replied. "And I'm going to help you."

Kennedy smiled up at her gratefully. "So what's the first step?" She asked.

"We have to come out of the closet," Tara replied.

Kennedy laughed, despite herself. "I did that years ago," she stated.

Tara smiled. "That's not what I meant," she said.

Kennedy nodded. Rising to her feet, she took a deep breath and opened the closet door. The smell of death surrounded her. The rotting bodies in the corner were the first things to catch her eyes. She looked away, feeling nauseous again. "What next?" She asked, her voice shaking.  
"Just take my hand," Tara said as Kennedy slipped her hand into the blonde witch's. "We have to go out there and confront it all – see it all," she said. "But we'll do it together."

"What if we can never figure out how to get me out of here?" Kennedy asked.

Tara's face clouded. "Then we're lost."


	23. Seeing the InBetween

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty-Three: Seeing the In-Between:

"This is what happens if we fail, isn't it?" Kennedy asked. All around her, the world was dying. The blood running down the gutters screamed with the voices of rushing waters. It splashed over Kennedy's feet. It swirled around her. But none of it touched Tara. The blood ran around her, as though the goodness in her heart was so powerful it could stop the very earth from spinning.

"Yes," Tara confirmed.

"I've always known that Slayers play with life and death," Kennedy said, moving forward as though in a trance. "But I've never really seen it. Not like this anyway. This is…," she paused, taking a deep breath, "apocalyptic."

"All of you are special," Tara explained. "You can do things that other people can't do. But that comes with a price. You have to see, Kennedy," Tara said sadly, "you have to see all of the things that other people don't."

"I've always been able to see," Kennedy murmured. "I've always been able to see so much more."

"Yes, you have," Tara said. "But there's more to being a Slayer, there's more to being you, than just seeing."

"I don't understand," Kennedy replied.

"Somewhere, in everything you see, through all of the things that flit before your eyes, there's one thing that you really need to see but you don't," Tara said as they walked forward. The buildings around them were on fire. The smoke clouded thick in the air. Neither woman could see more than a few feet. Always, ran the blood, as though the very earth itself was bleeding to death.

They walked in silence. Screams flitted on the air. Every muscle in Kennedy's body was tense. She expected monsters to leap from every shadow that enveloped her. But she and Tara walked on as though they were ghosts. Finally, they came to a cemetery. The gate was missing and the walls around it were crumbling. The grass was growing up over the names on the stones. They walked into the cemetery, following the intuitive movements of their feet. Kennedy sighed in frustration, about to say something, when her eyes landed on a name partially obscured by the wild grass. "Oh, shit," she said, stopping in front of the grave.

"What is it?" Tara asked.

"Look," Kennedy said, kneeling down and pulling the grass away. Clearly etched into the stone were the words 'Willow Rosenberg.' She glanced around at the stones surrounding her lover's and read the names of all of her friends. "Buffy, Faith, Xander, Giles, Anya, Dawn…," she trailed off, tears pricking at their eyes. "They all die, don't they? No matter what we do, they all die."

"This reality isn't yours yet," Tara said, kneeling beside her. "We can change this."

"No," Kenney shook her head, angrily wiping at her tears. "We can't. We might defeat the First this time and we might defeat the next thing to come along, but one day something will come that we can't defeat. Someday, we'll lose. Someday, everyone I love will die in front of me and I won't be able to stop it. Someday, I won't be strong enough."

"All of this is just a veil, Kennedy," Tara explained. "All of this is something that needs to be ripped away."

"I don't care if this is some vision the First sent to me," Kennedy yelled, moving away from the blonde witch. "I don't care if this is some trick. What it's telling me is true. What I've known all along is true," she said. "There's no hope for us and there never has been."

"This is exactly what it wants you to think," Tara yelled back, rising to her feet. "It wants you to lose hope. It wants you to stop believing and you're just giving in."

"What other choice do I have?" Kennedy shouted. "We're all dying. Every second of everyday, we're all dying a little bit inside."

Tara stopped and looked at Kennedy. "Is that what you think?" She asked.

"I don't know," Kennedy said in frustration. "I don't know anymore. All I can see is death. And isn't that what a Slayer is anyway? Just a highly sharpened instrument of death? I've been training to be an instrument of death since I was a child."

"All you can see is death," Tara repeated slowly.

"God, it would be so much easier if I was just dead," Kennedy said, turning away.

"Don't say that," Tara admonished.

"Why not?" Kennedy asked, throwing her hands up in the air. "I'm stuck in some apocalyptic dimension with a dead witch for my only company and I have no idea what I'm doing here or why or how to get out."

"Willow needs you," Tara replied.

"Willow needs _you_," Kennedy shot back.

"You're insecure," Tara said. "You still think you're not good enough for her."

"Of course I'm not," Kennedy said. "If you were still alive, she wouldn't even see me. She'd never notice I existed. I'm the second string and that's okay. I'm second string everything, aren't I?" Kennedy said sarcastically. "I'm not even a real Slayer. I've been training all my life for something that I may never become. All of that work and it might just skip me and go on to someone else, someone younger."

"People need you Kennedy," Tara said.

"The only person that needs me is Eli and he's dead," Kennedy said. "I could die here and no one would care."

"All you can see is death," Tara shot back angrily, "maybe you need to open your eyes and start seeing a little life."

"What are you talking about?" Kennedy asked.

"You aren't born into this world to die," Tara said. "You're born here to live."

…………………………

Buffy and Faith watched from across the street as Bringers moved in and out of the back entrance of the now abandoned new Sunnydale high school. Classes had ended prematurely due to the recent rash of deaths of teenage girls in town. "What are they doing?" Faith asked, watching the men moving in and out of the building carrying boxes and crates.

"They're hoarding something," Buffy said.

"What?" Faith asked.

"If I had to guess, weapons," Buffy replied. "I would bet they're hoarding weapons down there by the Hellmouth."

"Why?" Faith questioned.

"Because it's the one place we aren't going to look," Buffy explained. "They've been guarding the Hellmouth since day one and we've always left it alone. Too much evil there. Besides, where's the best place to hide something?"

"In plain view, right under our noses," Faith said grimly. "We need to move on this."

"I agree," Buffy replied. "We can't let them build up a cache of weapons to use against us."

"So what do we do?" Faith asked.

"I say we get a group of girls together tonight – the best ones – and we go in there and take it all," Buffy said.

"I don't know," Faith replied, turning away from the school and leaning back against the wall she and Buffy were hiding behind. "It's too dangerous."

"What's dangerous is letting them build up an arsenal to use against us," Buffy said determinedly. "We need to go in there and take it all out."

"I don't know if the girls are ready for this," Faith said. "Besides, while we're in there dealing with the weapons and the Bringers, who'll be at home making sure everyone else is safe?"

"Willow," Buffy replied matter-of-factly.

"Willow won't leave Kennedy's bedside," Faith stated.

"She'll have to," Buffy said. She didn't know why she was fighting so hard against Faith; she just knew that something in her compelled her to do it. Moreover, she wasn't fighting Faith's logic just because Faith was the one trying to reason with her. Even had Giles been sitting next to her, she would have fought against him. Something was controlling her, but she didn't know what. She thought it was the Slayer in her; she didn't know how wrong she was. "This is important," Buffy added. "She'll realize how important and she'll come down. It won't be for long and Kennedy'll be fine in the mean time."

"Whatever you say," Faith replied.

"Tonight, we move on the high school," Buffy said, nodding to herself, without the slightest clue that she was playing right into the First's hands.


	24. Before the Devil Knows

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty-Four: Before the Devil Knows:

Tara knew exactly what she needed to show Kennedy; she knew exactly what Kennedy needed to see to convince her not to give up hope. The First had sent to her a vision of death because it knew that Kennedy was on the verge of losing her faith in goodness. Every day, Kennedy saw death. She saw it taking people here and there. She saw it lingering in every alley, in every window. But she hadn't ever been so surrounded by it that she couldn't escape it. Now she was living in a world of death, a world fabricated by the First, but a world that Kennedy dreaded would become her reality. Kennedy needed to see life. Even in a world of death, Tara knew that there had to be life somewhere.

"Where are we going?" Kennedy asked, wearily following behind the blonde witch. Tara walked as fast as her legs could carry her with Kennedy trudging behind not because she believed anymore that Tara could help her, but because she didn't want to be alone in this world. Blood splashed up on her boots as she walked, but didn't notice it. She barely noticed the screams of people suffering and dying around her. She was becoming numb to it.

"You'll see," Tara said confidently. She had seen flowers growing up through the concrete sidewalks in cities. She had seen trees growing through abandoned cars and meadows forming in the decaying living rooms of old farm houses. Even in death, life persisted.

"I don't think we're going anywhere," Kennedy mumbled. "I think you're just trying to tire me out so I'll shut up."

Tara smiled slightly. "When I died," she said, "I thought my life would be over. I didn't really know what to expect after death. But I didn't believe that St. Peter would be sitting in front of some pearly gate with a giant book ready to throw back in my face all of the mistakes I'd made. Whatever higher power you believe in didn't put us on this earth to suffer for our mistakes. We've been put here to learn from them. Anyway," she continued, gaining Kennedy's interest despite her overwhelming despair and fatigue, "I didn't really think that I would be able to contribute anything to the world anymore after I was dead. I thought death was the finale, you know," she explained, "I thought it meant that everything was over."

"But it wasn't," Kenney concluded.

"Death is just the beginning, Kennedy," Tara replied.

"So what is life then?" Kennedy asked.

Tara looked back at her. "Life is where you become what you'll be for the rest of time."

"You should put that on a poster," Kennedy said sarcastically, though she smiled. "Maybe with a picture of some neat rock formation, or the Grand Canyon."

"I can see what Willow loves in you," Tara said softly.

"Willow doesn't love me," Kennedy shot back moodily.

"Yes, she does," Tara insisted. "You don't see it, but she hasn't left your bedside since the First attacked you."

"How do you know that?" Kennedy asked.

"I'm dead, remember?" Tara said cryptically. "I know everything."

"Really?" Kennedy asked. "So what does God look like then?"

"I can tell you this," Tara said, her eyes shining mischievously, "God isn't some old, white haired man with a beard."

"Figures," Kennedy said.

"You're strong," Tara continued, turning away from the Potential Slayer and moving forward even faster. "Even now, even when you're losing hope, you're still strong."

"I'm not that strong," Kennedy countered.

"Yes, you are," Tara replied. "Maybe you don't realize that now. But you'll be a great leader someday, Kennedy," she said. "You'll do great things."

"I don't want to do great things," Kennedy said suddenly. "I thought I did," she added. "But that was before I met Willow. I had plotted my whole life out. I would become the Slayer and be the best damn Slayer in history. I would kill more demons than any other Slayer. I would tip the balances. But it never happened. I kept waiting and waiting, never even thinking that my becoming a Slayer would mean that some other girl just like me had died. I wanted to be this great, noble warrior. But when I met Willow…I don't know," she trailed off. "None of that seems so important now."

"When you start caring about people other than yourself, your perspective shifts," Tara summarized.

"Yeah," Kennedy agreed. "I guess that's it."

"You have to be strong to realize that your goals in life have changed. You have to be even stronger to change with them," Tara pointed out.

Kennedy stopped. She was breathing heavily, though the witch didn't seem to be bothered at all by the distance they had been walking. "Look," she said, "maybe because you're dead you don't get winded. But I'm beat. I need to rest."

Tara stopped walking and nodded. "Okay," she replied. She was about to continue speaking when she heard the very noise that she had been hoping to hear. A soft whining sound reached her ears from an alley. Then a bark. Smiling, she grabbed Kennedy hand and pulled her onward.

"I thought we had agreed to stop," Kennedy panted.

"We've reached our destination," Tara replied. She pulled them into the alley. It was dark, but at the end of the alley, by a brick wall, Kennedy saw a dog. The two women stopped walking and looked at it.

"You wanted to show me a dog," Kennedy stated.

"No," Tara replied.

"Then what did you want to show me?" Kennedy asked.

Before she could respond, they heard a shuffling sound. Pieces of a chain link fence had been nailed over a hole in the wall of one of the buildings bordering the alley. A dumpster was positioned in front of the hole to hide it from view. A child lifted the metal covering and softly whistled to the dog. It started wagging its tail as it ran behind the dumpster and planted a wet kiss on the little boy's face. Kennedy watched, tears filling her eyes. Her heart constricted. "There's no one to protect them," she murmured.

"Yes, there is," Tara replied.

"Who?" Kennedy asked.

Tara smiled. "You."

………………………………

Buffy and Faith stood at the head of two groups of girls looking across the street at the back of the high school. Neither Slayer saw any Bringers. But Buffy knew that something she wanted was in the high school and she was going to take it. She didn't know that she only wanted that because the First made her want it. Though Faith had her doubts about their plan, she wasn't confident enough to call into question Buffy's determination to raid the high school. Buffy was the senior Slayer. She always made the plans and, in Faith's eyes, she always knew the right way to proceed. Faith's doubt in her own leadership skills only reinforced her belief in Buffy's. Though she should have stopped them, she kept silent, believing in her heart that Buffy was right yet again.

"Okay," Buffy said, turning around to face the girls. "Xander," she said, addressing her best friend. "I want you and Anya out here keeping watch. Both Faith and I have walkie talkies," she explained, holding up hers as a demonstration, even though both Xander and Anya were holding their own. "If you see anything suspicious, let us know."

"Will do," Xander said.

"I don' t like this," Anya whispered over to him.

"Why not?" He asked.

"Because if anything bad happens, we can't just run away," Anya said.

"We wouldn't just run away anyway, Anya," Xander reminded her. "We'd be leaving our friends."

"Oh, right," she mumbled. "Of course." Faith smiled at their bickering. She knew, even though Xander had left Anya at the altar, he and the ex-vengeance demon were meant to be together. She just hoped they figured that out before it was too late.

"Now," Buffy continued, ignoring Xander and Anya, "I'll be leading a group into the school and Faith'll be leading a group. You all know which group you belong to." The girls nodded. "Faith," she said, speaking to her counterpart, "take your group in through the back. I'll take mine in through the front. We'll check the upper floors. I want you to check the basement."

"Right on," Faith replied.

"Everybody ready?" Buffy asked. Breathing in deeply, she turned back to the high school and nodded to herself. "Ready," she whispered.

They split up, both groups moving toward their assigned places. Faith couldn't explain why, but as she walked away from Buffy, desperately wishing she could have kissed her for good luck, she felt as though she had been looking at the blonde Slayer for the last time. Buffy wasn't entirely comfortable parading their newly formed relationship in front of her friends. Faith shook away the morbid feeling that had momentarily enveloped her mind and focused on her mission. Buffy and her group disappeared around the front of the school. "Alright, girls," Faith said, "let's check this place out." They broke in through the back door and began to stealthily move through the darkened hallways of the school. The only lights were from the emergency exit signs. A reddish glow covered everything. Faith couldn't help but feel like she was walking into a trap. But she didn't trust her instincts.

She and her group moved toward the basement door. When they reached it, Faith instructed everyone to take out their weapons. A flurry of stakes and knives filled the air. Faith couldn't feel the presence of anyone other than her own people in the building. She couldn't feel any vampires. Opening the basement door, she turned on a flashlight she had been carrying with her and shined the beam down into the darkness. No monsters popped out at her. "Come on," she whispered, moving forward again. They all descended the stairs. Somewhere above her, Faith could feel Buffy. The constant humming in the back of her mind, which signaled the older Slayer's presence, reassured her.

They reached the bottom of the stairs. A hallway spread out before them. In one direction, Faith knew the opening for the Hellmouth lay. But she didn't know what lay in the other direction. She chose the path unknown and plunged into the darkness with a dozen Potential Slayers behind her. Rooms branched off to the right and left of the hallway. Their doors stood ajar, but Faith didn't see anything out of the ordinary in those rooms. She pressed onward until they reached the end of the hallway. A door stood before them, closed and locked. Faith instinctively felt that whatever was behind that door was what they came to the school to find. Lifting her foot, she kicked it off its hinges. The door burst inward and Faith shined the light into the room. Dozens of boxes were stacked around the walls, overflowing with weapons.

"Bingo," she muttered. Speaking into her walkie talkie, she said, "B, Xan, Anya, we've found what we're looking for in the basement."

Static crackled on the other end of the line until she heard Buffy's voice coming through the speaker, "Good work Faith. We're coming down. There's nothing upstairs."

"Nothing happening outside," Xander reported.

"Let's check this stuff out while we're waiting," Faith said. The girls spread through the room, sifting the boxes of weapons and organizing them. One of the girls came to a crate that was locked and called Faith over.

"Hey," she said, turning back to Faith. "What is this?"

Faith walked over to her and examined the crate. "I don't know," she said. "How about we open it and find out?" She grinned and hit the lock with the end of the flashlight. It broke and she slowly opened the lid, uncertain of what she would find. The moment she saw, she knew that she had been right. They had walked right into a trap. For a second, she said nothing, just stared at the numbers counting down way too fast. Then she started yelling. "Everyone out!" She yelled. "Everyone out! It's a trap. There's a bomb. Everyone out!" The girls starting running toward the door, but Faith knew that they wouldn't make it out of the room. Only eight more seconds flashed on the bomb. "Fuck me," she muttered and pushed away from the crate, running even though she knew she was about to die.

……………………………….

Willow sat in the living room of Buffy's house, waiting for Buffy and Faith to return from their patrol at the high school. The less experienced Potentials sat around, nervously waiting and chatting. Dawn, Giles, and Spike lingered by the basement door. Willow wanted nothing more than to be upstairs with her lover, but Buffy had left her in charge of everyone. Even through her grief, Willow recognized her responsibility to her friends. So she sat in the living room, her eyes constantly drifting toward the stairs, her leg bouncing with anxiety.

"How's she doing?" Dawn asked, walking over to the red headed witch.

"What?" Willow asked, looking up at the younger girl, who stood next to her.

"Kennedy," Dawn said. "How is she doing?"

"Oh," Willow replied, looking back at the stairs. "No change."

"I'm sorry," Dawn said, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Willow nodded and reached back, holding Dawn's hand. "I wish they would get back."

"I do too," Dawn said. "I don't like this plan. I don't like that we don't have any Slayers with us."

"Red and I are perfectly capable of protecting all of you," Spike interjected.

"I know," Dawn replied. "But I'd still be more comfortable if Faith was here."

"Did you ever think you'd hear yourself saying that?" Willow asked, laughing a little, the first laugh she had allowed to escape her lips since Kennedy was attacked.

"No," Dawn agreed. "She's different now."

"Yes, she is," Willow said. She was about to say more when Spike suddenly stood up straight, his eyes flashing yellow. "Spike?" She asked warily.

"We've got company," Spike growled.

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked, alarm replacing the mirth that had been dancing in her eyes.

"Weapons," Giles instructed. "Girls, weapons now."

Before anyone could say anything more, the front door burst in. All eyes turned to look at Caleb as he strode into the living room. "Hello girls," he said smugly. A troop of Bringers filed in behind him. "Thought we'd drop by for a visit." The Bringers unsheathed their knives. Caleb laughed, blood in his eyes. "You don't mind do you?"


	25. Becoming

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty-Five: Becoming:

For a few moments, the only thing Kennedy was aware of was darkness. But then she realized that her eyes were closed. Slowly, she became aware of her body. She was lying down. The sheets were soft against her skin and smelled like Willow. Her head hurt mildly and her muscles felt stiff, like she hadn't moved in days. The room seemed silent at first. She wondered where everyone was. Then she heard something by her bedside, nothing tangible, but the sound of something there but not really there, a rustle of air. She opened her eyes, but blinked rapidly, the sunlight pouring in through the window too bright.

"Kennedy," she heard someone say and she looked over to her left. Eli was kneeling next to her. He looked worried. She had the strangest sense of déjà-vu. For a moment, she thought she was in her Watcher's apartment and Eli was waking her up again to tell her that Bringers were breaking in to kill her. She wasn't too far off.

"Eli," she said. She sat up in the bed, moving slowly so as not to stress her fatigued body.

"You have to get up," Eli instructed.

"What's going on?" Kennedy asked. Before he could answer, she heard sounds of fighting drifting up from the living room.

"Caleb is here," Eli said gravely.

Kennedy paled. The last time she had seen the preacher, he hung her from a lamppost. "Here, like here here?" She asked in a panic.

"Yeah," Eli confirmed. "Get a weapon."

"Get a weapon?" Kennedy asked incredulously. "What are you talking about? That guy's like crazy strong. A weapon isn't gonna do anything."

"Willow's downstairs," Eli explained hurriedly. "Buffy and Faith left with a group of girls to explore the high school. They put Willow in charge, but the only person left who can really fight is Spike."

"Shit," Kenney said, her determination to protect her girlfriend over powering her own fear. Throwing the covers off of her body, she hastily rose to her feet. The room started spinning for a moment and she slowed down.

"What are you waiting for?" Eli admonished.

"I'm dizzy!" Kennedy shot back. "I just woke up. I've been running around like Mad Max for days and I feel like I'm gonna vomit." The visions she had seen while unconscious remained with her, but they seemed muted now. She was about of her own mind and back in reality. She wasn't certain how she had woken up, but she didn't care. Willow needed her help.

"Mad Max?" Eli questioned.

"I'll tell you later," Kennedy promised. Moving over to Willow's closet, she grabbed a knife and turned to face the dead man standing in front of her. "Okay," she said more confidently. "Let's go fight."

Eli moved out of her way, even though she would have passed through him, as she marched out of the room and into the upstairs hallway. Her headache was worse, but she knew that she had to help. For all intents and purposes, Willow was on her own downstairs and Kennedy knew how insecure Willow was about her ability to use her magic. Kennedy reached the top of the stairs and saw Dawn struggling with a Bringer at the base of the staircase. Rushing down, while ignoring the dizziness and wave of nausea that threatened to overwhelm her, Kennedy grabbed the Bringer just as he was about to bury his knife in Dawn's shoulder. Using her own, Kennedy sliced open his arm and kicked him in the stomach. He stumbled backwards, giving Dawn the chance to break a vase over his head.

Certain the Bringer was unconscious, Dawn turned to see who had miraculously saved her life. She hadn't expected to see Kennedy, though there wasn't anyone else who could have done it. No one had been upstairs when Caleb arrived. "Kennedy!" She said in surprise. "You're up and wielding a knife."

"I heard fighting," she said and shrugged.

"You're up and wielding a knife," Dawn replied incredulously.

"Don't remind me," Kennedy muttered, another wave of dizziness passing through her.

"You okay?" Dawn asked, steadying her.

"Oh, I'm great," Kennedy muttered. "What's going on?"

"Caleb," Dawn said gravely. "He attacked. Willow's trying to hold him at bay in the living room. Most of the girls are trapped in there with Willow behind the barrier."

"But you?" Kennedy asked as another Bringer rushed at them.

"I wasn't so lucky," Dawn explained. Kennedy handed her the knife.

"That might work better than a vase," she said, ducking when the Bringer swung his fist at her.

"Don't you need one?" Dawn asked, fending off another of the blind monks.

Kneeing the Bringer in the stomach, Kennedy grabbed his other wrist and broke it. His knife fell out of his hand and she grabbed it. "Got one of own now," she replied.

Beads of sweat were starting to form on Willow's head as she struggled to maintain the barrier. Caleb was fighting against it, as were most of his Bringers. Caleb had been endowed with the First's strength, Willow knew that now. She knew because every time Caleb touched her barrier, she felt a little bit of it fall away. No mortal man could accomplish that, not unless he was charged with mystical energy of his own. "Giles," she ground out between her teeth, "I don't think this is going to work."

"Keep trying," he said, muttering incantations under his breath. Giles knew powerful magics himself, but Willow held more power than he ever had. Though he was trying to help bolster the barrier, he knew it was up to her to keep it from collapsing.

Willow focused her energy on the barrier, trying to strength it. But she was worried. Most of the girls had gotten behind the barrier before she threw it up. But three hadn't. Dawn and two Potentials had been trapped on the other side. The two Potentials were dead and Dawn had disappeared into the foyer. Willow didn't know if she was alive or not. Further, Kennedy was unconscious upstairs in her bedroom, entirely alone and entirely vulnerable. If Caleb discovered where she was, Willow knew that he would kill her. She was certain the First hadn't let him forget that he had failed to do so once already.

"Holy shit," Spike suddenly said, staring at something beyond the barrier and Caleb.

"What?" Willow asked warily. "And please don't tell me it's more bad guys. I don't know if I could take more bad guys."

"It's Kennedy," Spike said. Giles looked up.

"What?" The Watcher asked in surprise.

Willow followed Spike's eyes and saw Kennedy and Dawn fighting side by side against three Bringers. Both girls were brandishing knives and they seemed to be winning. However, once Caleb noticed that the witch was distracted, he too shifted his attention from the barrier to whatever had so captivated her attention behind him. Once he saw Kennedy, his plans changed. Looking back at Willow and the barrier, he smiled cruelly. "Now we come to it, don't we, little girl?" He taunted. "Your girlfriend's over there, on my side of the barrier. She may be strong, but I'm stronger. I know you want to help her," he said, sneering into Willow's face. "But you can't, can you? Even though you care about her, you can't drop that barrier. Not even to save her. Because if you do," he said, motioning to the Bringers clustering around him, holding up their knives, "my boys'll rip you apart. All of you," he said, looking into the faces of each person behind the barrier. "So," he said, grabbing a knife from one of the Bringers and stepping back. "I'm gonna go kill her now and you're gonna watch."

"No!" Willow shouted as he moved away through the crowd, striding purposefully to where Kennedy was just snapping the neck of a Bringer. Kennedy hadn't noticed Caleb yet. Willow was torn. She wanted to drop the barrier and shoot a ball of energy into Caleb's back, but if she did, the Bringers would overwhelm them. Giles's life depended on her keeping the barrier up, Spike's life, for all it was worth, depended on her, and so did the lives of the twenty Potentials standing fearfully behind her. She was going to have to watch Kennedy die and Caleb was right; there was nothing she could do to stop it.

Kennedy felt a shadow loom over her and she turned just as Caleb swung the knife down. She moved just in time. Had she lingered a second longer, it would have sliced through her shoulder. Grabbing his arm, she kicked him in the chest, but the blow yielded little damage. Caleb was too strong. Kennedy knew immediately that she was overpowered. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Dawn grappling with a Bringer. Caleb hadn't noticed Buffy's sister yet, a small blessing. "So, you again," Kennedy said as she and Caleb circled each other.

"Last time we met, I hung you," Caleb reminded her.

"Last time we met, you didn't quite get the job done," Kennedy shot back. "I'm sure the First was so disappointed in you. Did it ground you for a week? Take away your telephone privileges?" She taunted. She knew she shouldn't mock him. But if she was going to die, she wasn't going to go meekly.

"This time, bitch," Caleb said darkly, "I'll get the job done." Rushing at her, he swung the knife. She ducked and elbowed him in the back. But he turned quicker than she expected and slammed his fist into the side of her head. Kennedy felt like a cartoon character for a moment; stars exploded in front of her eyes and the world started spinning again. But she didn't have time to focus on her head because a sudden, hot pain flared through her stomach. Looking down, she saw Caleb bury a knife into her gut. Vaguely, she heard Willow scream in the background. She heard Dawn shout something and try to tackle Caleb, but he flicked her away as though she was gnat.

Kennedy couldn't believe her eyes as she stared down at the knife in her stomach. Caleb was still holding it, a grin plastered on his face. He started to twist the blade and the pain tripled. Kennedy's eyes widened and she grabbed his hand to try to stop him. She wanted to scream, but she felt paralyzed. As soon as she touched his hand, images flashed before her. She saw a vineyard, barrels of wine, and a tunnel leading to a room lit with torches. Just before the images faded, she saw a weapon. It looked like something out of a fantasy movie. She couldn't describe it, but it was beautiful. She could feel the life starting to slip from her. Caleb stepped back, releasing the knife as he glared triumphantly over at Willow.

But then something happened. Caleb didn't see it. Dawn did. For a split second, Kennedy's eyes glowed yellow. "What the hell…," Dawn muttered. Caleb heard her and frowned. He looked down at the girl on the floor, wondering what was she staring at with such astonishment, and then he looked back at Kennedy. He had expected to see her crumpled to the floor by now. She wasn't; she was still standing.

Further, she looked stronger. Kennedy instinctively knew that something inside of her had changed. She glanced down at the knife sticking from her stomach and pulled it out. It hurt, but not as bad as it would have moments before. Behind the barrier, Willow, Spike, Giles, and the other girls watched in wonder as Kennedy lifted up the knife and stared at it. Her blood was dripping from it. She should have been dying. But she wasn't. In fact, she could feel her wound already starting to heal. "Well," she said, "that's a hell of a thing."

"You should be dead," Caleb said in disbelief.

"Yeah," Kennedy replied, looking up at him. "I really should." Before he knew what was happening, she lashed out with the knife, driving it deep into his throat. She moved so much faster than she had only moments ago. Her arm seemed like a blur to him. Blood started gushing from his neck. He couldn't breathe. He feel to his knees in front of her and, the moment before he died, he knew exactly what had changed. She had become a Slayer.


	26. Surely, Some Revelation Is at Hand

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty-Six: Surely, Some Revelation Is at Hand:

"Drop the barrier," Giles instructed as he saw Caleb's lifeless body fall to the ground.  
"What?" Willow asked. She still couldn't believe her eyes. Kennedy was awake; she was fighting; she had been stabbed, but she looked more alive than ever.

"Drop the barrier," Giles repeated. The Bringers were stunned. Their leader was dead. They had turned from Willow and the barrier and were watching Kennedy both with interest and fear, but none dared attack her. "They're distracted," he whispered to her. "We can defeat them."

Willow hesitated for a moment before dropping the barrier. Spike rushed forward, grabbing the first Bringer he could lay his hands on and snapping his neck. "What's going on?" Willow asked as Spike tore through the Bringers with the aid of some of the braver Potentials.

"Kennedy's a Slayer," Giles stated.

"What?" Willow asked, her eyes snapping over to the Watcher.

"It's the only explanation. She should be dead, but she's not," Giles said.

"But if she's a Slayer then…," Willow said, trailing off. She didn't need to continue.

Kennedy stared down at the knife in her hands. She heard Spike fighting the remaining Bringers. She knew she should join him, but she didn't. "Kennedy," Dawn said, rising slowly to her feet and moving over to the dark haired girl. "That thing, with your eyes, what just happened?"

"My eyes?" Kennedy asked, looking up at Buffy's sister.

"Your eyes glowed yellow," Dawn explained. "I saw them. It was only for a second. Just after you got stabbed, suddenly your eyes started glowing yellow."

Kennedy stared at her for several long moments, suddenly remembering why that sounded familiar. In the tower of memory, she had seen herself get stabbed and she had seen the yellow glow of which Dawn spoke. "Holy shit," Kennedy whispered, realizing what had happened. She was a Slayer. She had been waiting for years for this moment. The strength flowing through her body, the power in her hands, all of it came from the Slayer. She could sense Spike without looking to find him with her eyes. She could hear the heartbeats of the Bringers slowly dying around her. Every little sound, every little sensation seemed amplified. Moreover, she was starving.

However, the elation that she felt with the realization that she had finally become what she had been training her whole life to be disappeared once she realized that she was only the Slayer because Faith was dead. Another image crept back into her consciousness. She remembered seeing Faith lying crumpled in a smoky, dark room. "The high school," she muttered to herself. Eli said that Buffy and Faith were on patrol at the high school. If Kennedy had learned anything in Sunnydale, it was that people didn't often stay dead on the Hellmouth. She had been hung from a lamppost and lived to tell about it. There was a chance, however small, that she could save Faith. Rushing passed Dawn, ignoring her shouts of concern, ignoring the pain still flaring in her abdomen, though less now, and forgetting entirely about the fact that she had yet to see Willow, Kennedy started running toward Sunnydale High School.

……………………………

Faith had almost made it out of the door when the bomb went off. She knew the second before the explosion that she was going to die. She could feel it in her bones, like the Slayer inside of her was suddenly packing up shop to move onto the next girl. She didn't hear the explosion and she didn't see the wall of fire moving toward her. She felt heat on her back and then she was falling. It seemed like forever until she hit the ground. The last thing she saw was the Potentials in front of her collapsing, their eyes blank. Then darkness overwhelmed her. Faith had always assumed that death was just perpetual darkness. She didn't know if she believed in Heaven and Hell. She knew that Hell existed; she was dead on the floor in the same hallway that led to its front door. But she didn't really think that people went there. Hell was a demon gathering ground, a place where evil existed. What Faith didn't expect was to find herself standing in the desert.

The sun was shining over her head. The sand was golden under her feet. It was warm, but not blazingly hot like she thought it should be. In fact, she was rather comfortable. There was no pain. She felt whole. For miles and miles around her, all she could see was sand and sky. She turned, expecting to see more sand and more sky behind her, but instead she saw a woman. She recognized her instantly. "Tara," Faith stated, her brows furrowing in confusion. "Where am I?"

"The desert of unreality," Tara explained.

"Right," Faith said. When Tara didn't elaborate, she added, "And I'm supposed to know what that means?"

Tara smiled, her beautiful face lighting up. "No," she said, laughing, and her voice sounded like a thousand music boxes chiming all at once with the same melody. It was amazing, but overwhelming. "This is where people come when they haven't decided where to go yet," Tara said.

"Where to go?" Faith asked.

"You have a choice to make, Faith," Tara said, moving closer to the dark haired Slayer.

"Okay," Faith replied. A light breeze kicked up, rustling the loose sand at her feet. Tara was wearing a flowing, white dress and it moved in the breeze like ripples on a pond.

"Do you remember what happened?" Tara asked.

"Yeah," Faith said, though her life seemed so far away now. "B and I were leading some girls into the high school. The First was storing weapons there. B wanted them. But it was a trap. I was in the basement and a bomb went off," she explained. Looking into Tara's compassionate eyes, she said, "I'm dead, aren't I?"  
"Sort of," Tara said.

"Could you be anymore vague?" Faith asked, though without any hostility. She was amused by the blonde witch. Her interactions in life had been limited with Tara. But she knew that Tara had been an exceptional person and she knew that Tara had only wanted the best for everyone.

"That's your choice, Faith," Tara replied. "You are technically dead. But your soul is still in your body. We've brought your consciousness here so that you can decide."

"We?" Faith asked, but Tara ignored her question.

"If you choose death, Faith," Tara continued, "your soul will be at peace."

"Peace," Faith murmured. "You're fucking with me right?"

"No," Tara said, a little taken aback.

"I killed people. I'm horrible. I don't deserve to be at peace. I deserve to be at whatever the opposite of peace is," Faith ranted.

Tara smiled again and Faith felt her anger subside. "You've redeemed yourself in our eyes, Faith," Tara said. "We feel that you deserve to be at peace. If you choose death now, you'll live in eternal happiness."

"Sounds nice," Faith said thoughtfully. "Though I'm still not sure if I believe you."

"If you choose life," Tara continued, ignoring Faith's doubts, "you'll wake up in terrible pain."

"Awesome," Faith stated sarcastically.

"Your wounds are rather severe," Tara said. "It'll be a long time before you're fully rid of them. You'll spend the rest of your life fighting an enemy that you'll never fully defeat. You'll watch all of your friends die slowly around you until eventually we'll meet here again."

"You really make option number two sound so inviting," Faith said. "Why the hell would I go on living if it's going to be _that_ bad?"

"Because if you choose to go back, you'll spend the rest of your life with Buffy," Tara said softly.

"Oh," Faith said, the sarcasm dropping from her voice. Now she could see the choice she had to make – eternal bliss or Buffy. Smiling, Faith looked at Tara and said, "You know, I never really believed in Heaven. I think I'm ready for round two."

………………………………

Kennedy ran faster than she had ever run in her life. Her muscles pounded, but didn't grow tired. Oxygen filled her lungs, but her lungs didn't burn. The Slayer was inside of her now, it was awake, and it was ready to fight. She reached the high school in time to see Xander and Anya rushing toward the front door. "Xander!" She yelled, checking his progress.

He turned to see Kennedy running toward him. Cocking his head to the side, he turned to Anya and said, "Is it just me or has she suddenly gotten really fast?"

"Not just you," Anya replied. "And last time I checked, she was unconscious."

"Good point," Xander said.

"Faith's in trouble," Kennedy said, stopping in front of them. She wasn't even winded. Xander and Anya both noticed immediately that her breathing hadn't even changed.

"What's wrong with you?" Anya asked.

"What she means is," Xander interrupted, "something's different about you."

"I'm a Slayer now," Kennedy explained, moving passed them toward the front door of the high school. "Which means that Faith is dead, for now. We have to help her. What happened?"

"There was an explosion," Xander replied, he and Anya struggling to match her pace. His mind whirled, trying to process all of the information she had given him. "We think in the basement, which is where Faith's group was."

Kennedy kicked open the front door and they were greeted with a thick cloud of black smoke. She was about to charge into it when they heard coughing. Two Potentials stumbled out moments later, following by a dozen more. Buffy brought up the rear, covering her mouth with her sleeve. "Kennedy," she stated, startled to see the dark haired girl standing before her with such a look of purpose and determination in her eyes. "You're awake."

"She's a whole lot more than that," Anya muttered.

"Huh?" Buffy asked.

"Where's Faith?" Kennedy questioned.

"I don't know," Buffy said, shaking her head. "I tried to get to the basement door, but there's fire everywhere. I needed to get my girls out first."

"Is this everyone from your group?" Xander asked.

"Yeah," Buffy replied.

"I'm going in," Kennedy said, pushing passed them. Before Buffy could stop her, Kennedy had plunged into the wall of smoke pouring out of the building.

"Kennedy! Wait!" Buffy called after her. "What the hell does she think she's doing?" Buffy asked.

"Buffy," Xander said, grabbing the blonde's arm as she turned to follow the dark haired girl.

"What?" Buffy asked. "Xander, let go, I have to make sure she doesn't get herself killed…again."

"Buffy, Kennedy's a Slayer," Xander said quickly.

Buffy stopped and looked back at him. "What?" She said quietly.

"At least that's what she said," Xander added. "She seems pretty convinced and, I've gotta say, I believe her. She ran all the way from your house to here without breaking a sweat."

"But if Kennedy's a Slayer, then," Buffy said, stopping herself mid sentence. "No," she said, her eyes widening.

"Look," Xander said, "I know Faith and you were just starting to get along again, but…"

Buffy interrupted him. "I'm in love with her," she said.

"What now?" Xander asked.

"I'm in love with her," Buffy repeated. "It's not just that we've starting getting along again. We're together."

"They're orgasm buddies," Anya whispered over at Xander.

"Thanks, An, I've got that now," Xander shot back.

"I need to save her," Buffy said, breaking away from Xander's grasp. "I need to help Kennedy."

Buffy plunged into the darkness after her, immediately covering her mouth with her sleeve again. She could barely see or breathe in the smoke. She ran down the hallway. She could feel the heat coming from the basement already. She met Kennedy at the basement door. The new Slayer had ripped it off its hinges, only to find the staircase burning. "Is there another way down?" Kennedy yelled over the roar of the fire in the basement.

"No," Buffy shouted back.

"Then down we go," Kennedy said. She rushed down the staircase, evading the flames that licked at her clothes. Buffy was behind her. "Which way would she have gone?" Kennedy asked when they reached the bottom of the stairs. The smoke was making her feel light headed.

"Away from the Hellmouth," Buffy reasoned. "We already know what's down that way. This way," she said, taking charge. Kennedy followed behind her. Near the end of the hallway, they started reaching bodies. Without having to check, Kennedy knew that all of the Potentials Faith had taken down into the basement were dead.

"Shit," she muttered, leaning down and brushing a strand of hair away from Annabelle's bloody face.

"We have to find Faith," Buffy said.

They fanned out, searching quickly. The flames were leaping higher around them. The roof was starting to sag in. At any moment, the ceiling could collapse. Finally, Kennedy located the former rogue Slayer. "Over here!" She shouted to Buffy. Pressing her fingers against Faith's throat, she sighed with relief when she felt a weak, but consistent pulse. "She's alive," she said, smiling when Buffy's face filled with joy.

"How?" She asked.

"I don't know," Kennedy said. "Her heart must have stopped for a moment. I guess I was called when it did."

"Let's get her out of here," Buffy said. Together, they lifted up Faith and carried her out of the basement. Just as they were leaving the school, grateful to be breathing fresh air again, the first floor collapsed.

"Over here!" Xander called. The others were waiting across the street. Buffy heard fire engines. They couldn't be lingering around when the fire department and police arrived. Buffy didn't want to have to explain why they had been trespassing and how she had been involved in yet another explosion at the high school.

They carried Faith into the backyard of an empty house for sale and laid her down in the grass.

"Is she…," Kate asked, stepping forward. The young Potential had been in Buffy's group.

"She's alive," Buffy asked, brushing a strand of Faith's slightly burned hair out of her face. Sighing with relief, Buffy said, "Let's take her home."


	27. Power

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Power:

_It's all about power: who's got it, who knows how to use it_. Kennedy remembered Buffy telling her and the other Potentials that during one of their training sessions. Power. Now she had it. Only after the adrenaline stopped pumping through her body, her heart began to slow, and the Slayer in her began to recede into the background of her consciousness did Kennedy remember that she had left Willow and the others alone with a group of Bringers and that she had been stabbed in the stomach. However, she remembered seeing Spike fighting the Bringers out of the corner of her eye and she knew that the bleach blonde vampire wouldn't allow anything to happen to the girls under his watch. Her thoughts shifted to her other problem. Gingerly, she lifted her shirt and ran her fingers over the aggravated, red gash that ran like a cross over her abdomen. It wasn't bleeding anymore and the wound even looked like it was starting to knit itself back together, but it hurt. She hadn't noticed the pain before; her mind had been preoccupied with trying to save Faith. But now that she had nothing else to think about, the pain flooded her mind like a rushing river.

"Hey, you okay?" Xander asked as they walked the backstreets of Sunnydale toward Buffy's house.

"Yeah," Kennedy replied, covering her wound again with her shirt.

"What happened?" Xander asked.

"I got stabbed," Kennedy said. Xander's eyes widened and his opened his mouth to say something, but Kennedy waved him off. "Really," she said, "I'm fine. It just hurts a little. It's nothing serious."

"Are you sure?" Xander asked.

"I'll just have Willow look at it when we get back," Kennedy replied.

Xander smirked. "I'm sure you will," he shot back. "Willow's been playing nurse for you a lot lately."

"I know," Kennedy said, "and I haven't even seen her in the outfit yet."

Xander laughed. "I don't think she was wearing one."

"Even better," Kennedy murmured.

"I heard that," Xander said, but smiled.

"Sorry," Kennedy replied, blushing a little. "I'm just a little revved up."

"Faith would call that the hungries and the hornies," Xander explained. "Apparently, it's a Slayer thing."

Kennedy nodded. "Faith knows what she's talking about," she mumbled to herself as they reached the backdoor of the house. Buffy was moving ahead of all the rest of them, carrying Faith in her arms. The former rogue Slayer looked nearly broken beyond repair. Now that she saw what the end for a Slayer could look like, Kennedy shuddered to think that she had been so eager to become one.

Anya opened the door for Buffy, who nodded her thanks and entered the kitchen. She had been expecting the kitchen to be empty. In fact, she had been expecting everyone to be in the living room eating popcorn and watching movies, or doing something similarly as fun and ignorant of danger. She hadn't expected to see Willow and Giles patching up wounded Potentials in the kitchen and dining room while Spike dragged the bodies of dead Bringers into the kitchen. They all stopped what they were doing and looked up at Buffy when she entered. "Uh, Kennedy?" Buffy shouted back to the newly called Slayer.

"What?" Kennedy asked, ignoring the pain in her stomach.

"What the hell happened here?" Buffy asked.

Kennedy pushed forward through the crowd of girls at the door and surveyed the scene. "Oh, yeah," she said sheepishly, "I forgot to tell you." Her eyes scanned the room until she saw Willow, but the witch looked away suddenly. Kennedy frowned. But something else caught her attention. Willow seemed to glow with an ethereal light. Focusing her thoughts on the red haired witch, she felt a distinct humming coming from her. A similar humming came from Spike and also from Buffy and Faith. But the energy coming off of Willow was much more intense.

"Forgot to tell me what?" Buffy asked, glaring over at her. The edge to Buffy's voice brought Kennedy out of her thoughts.

"There was a little thing," Kennedy said, motioning with her fingers. "Really, just tiny."

"A tiny little thing that involves injured girls and dead bodies?" Buffy snapped angrily.

"It's fine," Spike interjected on Kennedy's behalf. "Everything's fine. Well, I mean, except for that brown haired girl…what was her name?" He asked.

"Allison," Giles answered.

"Right, except for Allison, who unfortunately kicked the bucket, rather early in the fight I might add. But don't get all pissy with Kennedy here," he said. "She did us all one hell of a favor by taking out that Caleb bloke. Killed him right dead, she did" Spike explained. Buffy looked over at Kennedy in surprise.

"You did?" She asked.

"It wasn't that big of a deal," Kennedy said, drawing away from the eyes now staring at her.

"What happened?" Giles asked, moving away from the girl to whom he had been attending and toward the crumbled dark haired girl in Buffy's arms.

"There was an explosion at the high school. Faith's whole team is gone," Buffy explained, trying to stop the tear swelling in her eyes. The house fell silent. Willow was thanking the gods that Kennedy was still alive, while the rest of the girls quietly pictured the faces of their fallen comrades, knowing that if they were chosen for the next mission, they might fail to walk back through the door as well.

"Bring her upstairs," Giles instructed. Her wounds were serious, but Giles clutched to the hope that she could still be saved. However, he didn't want the rest of the girls to see one of their leaders in such an awful condition.

Buffy, Faith, and Giles disappeared through the kitchen door as Willow turned to Dawn. "Dawnie?" She asked, as she grabbed a first aid kit from one of the kitchen shelves, "can you take over for me while I tend to Kennedy?"

"Of course," Dawn replied.

"Come on," Willow said, grabbing Kennedy by the arm and pulling her through the door from which Buffy had just exited. When Willow touched her arm, Kennedy felt her skin catch fire. Her whole body became warm. She followed Willow silently up the stairs, her every molecule and cell vibrating with energy and desire. But Willow had yet to meet her eyes.

"Sit on the bed and take off your shirt," Willow instructed, closing her bedroom door behind them. Kennedy complied, although sitting was the last thing she felt like doing. She needed to move, to run, to do anything but sit still. Lifting off her shirt, she grimaced as she stretched out the wound. Willow knelt in front of her, wetting a gauze pad with rubbing alcohol. "This will probably sting," she said gently as she applied the solution to Kennedy's skin. It did sting, but Kennedy wasn't feeling the pain anymore. All she felt was the warmth.

"Willow," she said softly.

But the red haired witch ignored her. Looking down at the first aid kit, she said, "Maybe I should stitch you up. But I don't know. It might not be necessary." Kennedy watched her fumbling with the supplies, wondering why Willow wouldn't even look at her, much less speak to her like someone other just another injured Potential, when she noticed the tear drops falling onto the band-aids.

"Willow," she said again, reaching down and gently lifting Willow's face. "What's wrong?" She asked, brushing away the older woman's tears with the soft pads of her thumbs.

"You got stabbed," Willow said, allowing her tears to flow freely.

"I know," Kennedy replied.

"You could have died….again," Willow continued.

"But I didn't," Kennedy said reassuringly. "I'm right here. I'm fine. It doesn't even hurt that much."

"I keep having to watch you get hurt over and over," Willow whispered. "I don't want to watch you get hurt anymore. I can't take it. I love you too much."

"You what?" Kennedy asked, surprised.

Willow reddened. "I love you," she said. "I tried not to. I felt like loving you would betray Tara somehow," she explained. "But there's room for both of you in my heart."

Kennedy smiled and leaned down, capturing Willow's lips with her own. "I love you too," she whispered when she broke the kiss.

"You do?" Willow asked.

"How could I not?" Kennedy replied. "You're perfect."

"But you're a Slayer now," Willow said.

"So?" Kennedy asked, confused.

"How can you still want me? You're so powerful," Willow said. "I'm nothing."

"Are you kidding?" Kennedy said in disbelief. "You're a goddess, Will."

"No, I'm not," Willow sighed and looked down.

Kennedy shook her head. "Look at me," she instructed. Willow looked back up at her, her green eyes still swimming with tears. "You're the powerful one. I know you don't want to admit it because you're afraid of what you have inside of you. But baby," Kennedy said, "I can see it. You hum with it. It's everywhere around you," she explained. "You_ are_ a goddess. You may have had darkness in you before, but you don't anymore. You're all light now."

"What do you mean you can see it?" Willow asked curiously.

"I don't know," Kennedy said, shrugging her shoulders as Willow taped a bandage onto Kennedy's abdomen. Her fingers lingered on the younger girl's muscles. She loved the way they moved under her touch. "You just have this light around you," she explained. Willow moved her fingers up, brushing against her ribs. "Okay, you really have to stop doing that," Kennedy said.

"Why?" Willow asked, smiling mischievously.

"It's terribly distracting," Kennedy replied.

"Maybe I want to be distracting," Willow argued.

"I thought you wanted to take things slow," Kennedy said as Willow crawled up her body, meeting her lips with a searing kiss. Willow pushed her back down on the bed, Kennedy more than happy to let her witch take control of the situation.

"That was before you almost died for the third time," Willow replied between kisses. "Now, I'm thinking waiting isn't such a grand idea."

"I'm with you on that," Kennedy said, lifting the red head's shirt off of her body. She was wearing a black, lacey bra. Kennedy's eyes fell to her breasts, then slowly rose back up to her eyes. "You're so beautiful," she said as Willow kissed her again, seeking out her tongue ring.

………………………………..

Buffy sat by Faith's side, holding her hand as Giles cleaned her wounds and bandaged her. It seemed like hours had passed before he finally moved over to a bowl of water and began washing his hands as he said, "I've done all I can."

"Is she going to be okay?" Buffy asked, not taking her eyes off of the younger girl.

"I don't know," Giles said, sighing. "She's taken a lot of damage."

"She can't die," Buffy whispered. "Not now."

Giles moved over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "We've both known Faith a long time," he said. "She's a fighter. She never gives up. If anyone could survive these wounds, it's her."

"Thanks, Giles," Buffy said as he nodded and left the room. When she was alone with Faith, she finally allowed herself to cry. She crawled into bed with the dark haired Slayer, careful not to touch any of her wounds as she loosely wrapped her arm around Faith's stomach, pressing herself against Faith's body. Leaning her head on Faith's shoulder, she sobbed into the pillow.

"I'm so sorry," she said, when she caught her breath. "I'm so sorry. We never should have gone in there. We never should have split up."

As callous as it seemed, Buffy didn't care about any of the other girls that had died. She couldn't even remember their faces, much less their names. She didn't care to remember. The only thing that seemed important to her at that moment was Faith. Faith had died. She was alive now, but only clutching onto the merest strand of life. "God, I'm so stupid," Buffy said angrily. "Why was I such a bitch to you? Why didn't I just tell you how I felt about you? Why didn't I tell you all those years ago? Why do I keep running away from you?" She asked herself, knowing secretly that her mandate to take their relationship slowly was just another way of running from her feelings. "I should have been loving you this whole time instead of hating you," she whispered, brushing a strand of Faith's hair behind her ear. "Things would have been so different."


	28. Dreams and Visions

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Dreams and Visions:

Buffy fell asleep lying next to Faith. As darkness enveloped her, she began to dream. She was lying in bed, the same bed her body was actually resting on, and sunlight was streaming in through the window. The alarm clock next to her read nine o'clock. She felt completely rested. As a Slayer, worries constantly hung over her. She feared for her friends, she feared for the world, and she feared for herself. But the dark clouds of responsibility had lifted. Her mind was entirely blank of anxiety. The sheets felt soft against her skin. The blankets piled on top of her were warm, but not stifling. She didn't feel like moving at all. In fact, she may not have, had the delicious aroma of pancakes wafting through the open door not roused her from her comfortable state. Her stomach growled and she flipped the covers off of her body.

Padding down the hallway in her bare feet, she marveled at how empty the house seemed. She couldn't hear any Potential Slayers arguing; the television wasn't turned on; the shower wasn't running. Sunlight poured in through every window, illuminating the house in a bright, golden glow. She reached the top of the stairs and followed her nose. "Dawn must be cooking," she mumbled to herself as she descended the stairs and turned toward the kitchen. Pushing open the door, she stopped suddenly, confused at what she saw. Faith was standing in front of the stove with a spatula in her hand. A little boy sat at the kitchen island, his legs dangling from the stool. His eyes followed Faith as she moved around the kitchen. A glass of orange juice with a curly, green straw stuck in it sat in front of him.

"Almost ready, little J," Faith said, her Boston accent nearly as thick as the day Buffy had first met her. She was wearing a white tank top that showed off the muscles of her arms. The tattoo encircling her arm danced with the muscles underneath as she flipped two of the pancakes and put them on a plate. Her shirt rode up a little and Buffy's eyes instantly traveled down to where the former rogue Slayer's scar should have been. But it was gone.

"Can I have a smiley face today?" The boy asked, kicking his legs against the stool as he spoke.

"Regular or strawberry?" Faith asked, turning around with two containers of syrup in her hands. Her eyes met Buffy's and she smiled.

"Strawberry," he said excitedly. Faith nodded and squeezed two smiley faces of strawberry syrup onto the pancakes on the plate.

"Two smiley faced pancakes, coming right up," she said. "Morning, B," she added, sliding the plate in front of the boy and moving around the island toward the blonde Slayer. Wrapping her arm around Buffy's waist, she gave her a lingering kiss. "You slept late."

"I did?" Buffy asked. Her eyes drifted back to the boy, who was digging into the pancakes. She wanted to ask dream Faith who he was, but she didn't want to look stupid. It was _her_ dream after all.

"Yeah, you're usually up by now," Faith said. "Feeling okay?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied.

"Pancakes?" Faith asked, moving back over to the stove.

"Sure," Buffy replied. She watched Faith pour the batter into the pan and then moved over to the island and sat down next to the boy.

"Can you pour me some more juice, Mommy?" The boy asked. Buffy looked over at him and then over at Faith.

Faith raised an eyebrow at her and said, "I think he's talking to you, B."

"Oh," Buffy said in surprise. "Right." Picking up a container of juice, she poured it into his glass. When she was done, she looked closely at him. His hair was light blonde, like her own. But his eyes were dark and smoky, like Faith's. He smiled at her, revealing his dimples.

"You sure you're okay, B?" Faith asked.

Buffy smiled and looked back at her. They were a family. In her dream, they were a family. "Yeah," she replied honestly. "I'm great."

She heard footsteps in the hallway outside of the kitchen. Turning, she saw Kennedy and Willow walk in. "Hey," Kennedy said. "Will used the key, I hope that's okay."

"That's why we gave it to you," Faith shot back, smiling playfully at the other brunette.

"Hey Jake," Kennedy said, moving over to the boy. "How's my big man this morning?"

"Mommy made pancakes," he said, stuffing the last forkful into his mouth.

"I think that's all your Mommy knows how to make," Willow joked.

"Hey," Faith said, "I'm working on eggs."

"How's that going?" Kennedy asked.

"I wouldn't try eating them yet," Faith said. "Give me another week."

"Uh huh," Willow replied. "We'll clean up in here. You guys should go."

"Yeah," Faith agreed, "you ready, B?"

"We'll take good care of Jake," Kennedy said, ruffling his hair. "Don't worry about a thing."

"Never do," Faith replied. "Come on, B," she said, leading Buffy out of the kitchen.

"Where are we going?" Buffy asked. "I thought I was getting pancakes."

"You kinda overslept," Faith said. "I don't want us to be late. She can be a little impatient."

"Who?" Buffy asked.

Faith looked back at her, puzzled. "You know," she replied. "Are you sure you're okay this morning?" She asked when they reached the front door.

"I'm fine," Buffy said. Faith yanked the door open and Buffy took a step back, covering her eyes. The sunlight raced in, nearly blinding her.

"Come on," Faith said, taking Buffy by the hand and pulling her through the doorway.

Instead of hitting the wood of her front porch, her feet hit sand. Lowering her hand, she saw a desert spread out before her. In every direction, she saw only sand. Her house was in the middle of it all. The sun seemed to be hovering over them, baking everything in its sight. Beads of sweat started to roll down her back. "What the hell," she mumbled to herself. She felt Faith let go of her hand. The dark haired Slayer turned around and smirked at her.

"Something like that," she said. Buffy's eyes moved passed Faith to the figure standing in the distance. It was a woman. She was wearing a white dress and her blonde hair was blowing slightly in the breeze.

"Tara," Buffy whispered, her eyes widening in disbelief.

Faith grabbed her hand again and started pulling her along as she said, "Off to see the wizard."

Buffy awoke slowly and confusedly. The bedroom was dark. She could feel Faith lying beside her, breathing raggedly, but breathing. The shades were drawn over the window. She couldn't tell if it was night or day. Rubbing her eyes, she sat up. Her muscles felt sore. She glanced down at Faith and sighed. "Everything's gonna be okay," she said, though half-heartedly. She didn't know what to believe anymore. She had always felt so confident about her decisions. She was a Slayer; she knew what to do. But this time, she hadn't. This time, she had led her people into a trap. More of them had died than she cared to count. It was her fault. She was death. The Slayer was death. She had been told that time and again and she didn't want to believe it, but she knew it was true. She brought nothing but misery and pain to everyone she knew.

Getting out of bed, she moved over to the mirror above the dresser. She looked at herself long and hard in the glass, examining every feature. She looked older. She looked older than she had even that very morning. The weight of her responsibilities was starting to catch up to her. She wasn't a teenager anymore. She wasn't that kid that had fallen in love with Angel all those years ago. But she didn't feel very much like an adult either. She felt lost. She had ever since her mother died. Images from her dream flooded her mind again and she saw the face of that little boy. He had so much love and trust in his eyes. She wondered if what she had seen in her dream would ever come true. Looking back at Faith, she wondered if they could ever be a family.

…………………………

Kennedy awoke from her nap with Willow in her arms. Raising an eyebrow, she noted that Willow was naked in her arms. The events of the day raced through her mind. Caleb was dead, she was a Slayer, Faith was still alive, and she and Willow had finally had sex. The red haired witch was still asleep. Kennedy watched her chest rise and fall. A gentle smile was on her face. She looked happy and content. She knew that Willow had been stressed out, not only over Kennedy's injuries, but over the First and her own magics. That Willow looked so calm now made Kennedy smile. Sighing, she closed her eyes again and let her mind wander. At first, her mind was blank, a sea of blackness. But then images began to pop in front of her closed eyes.

She saw the knife sliding into her stomach. For a moment, she felt the pain flare up again, but that too subsided. She saw Caleb's body slump to the ground. She saw Dawn staring at her in wonder. She saw torches and a tunnel and wine casks and a weapon gleaming in fire light. Her eyes shot open. She had forgotten all about her vision. When Caleb stabbed her, images had flashed before her mind of that very same weapon. She knew she had to talk to someone about it. Slowly disentangling herself from Willow, she slipped on her pants and bra. However, her shirt had been sliced open and stained with blood. Moving over to her bag, she grabbed a tank top and threw it on. Then moving back to the bed, she fixed the covers around Willow and kissed her on the forehead. "I'll just be downstairs," she whispered to the sleeping witch.

Stepping out into the hallway, she quietly closed the door behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she looked out of the window at the end of the hall and saw that night had fallen. She could see the bloated moon through the window. The house seemed quiet, but she could hear the television downstairs. The smell of green peppers and onions sautéing on the stove greeted her as she moved down the hallway toward the stairs. Two Potentials came up the stairs and walked by her. They had been laughing, but as they passed Kennedy, they stopped. Lowering their gazes a little, they stepped aside respectfully and allowed her to pass. Kennedy looked at them confusedly before it suddenly dawned on her. She wasn't one of them anymore. She wasn't a Potential Slayer. She was a Slayer now, an authority figure, someone whom they were supposed to respect, just like Buffy and Faith. She paused at the top of the stairs, this new revelation momentarily stunning her. There had only been so many Slayers throughout history. She was one of them now. Her name would always be remembered. No matter what she accomplished, how much or how little, someone somewhere would always know who she was, who she had been.

Shaking away her thoughts, she continued down the stairs until she reached the landing. Most of the Potentials were packed into the living room, watching a repeat of CSI. Normally, she would have gone in and flopped down on the couch, watched it with them, laughed with them, joked with them, and talked with them. Now, however, she hesitated. Her going into that room would be like an adult wandering around to chaperone a high school party. The girls would all get as quiet as the girls she had passed on the stairs. The jokes would stop. They would be waiting. They would be waiting for Kennedy to tell them to do something, to order them to go somewhere, or to remind them that they had more important things to do than sit around and watch reruns of television shows.

Turning away from the living room, she looked into the dining room and saw Giles, Dawn, and Xander sitting at the table. They had books piled around them. Giles was writing on a large dry erase board in some language Kennedy had never seen and probably would never learn to read. Walking over to the doorway, she lingered for a moment, listening to Giles lecture to his two pupils before she cleared her throat. Giles looked over at her and smiled. "Ah, Kennedy," he said, putting the cap back on his marker. "You're up. How are you feeling?"

"Good," Kennedy replied nonchalantly.

"Excellent," Giles said. "And your stomach?"

"It hurts a little," she replied. "But not that much."

"Where's Willow?" Xander asked.

"She's asleep upstairs," Kennedy replied. Xander smirked. She glared pointedly over at him and he shrugged.

"I was just trying to teach Xander and Dawn the finer points of Ak'Taru, a demon language popular with vampiric tribes coming out of the Middle East and Asia," Giles explained.

"We weren't doing so well," Xander said, rubbing his eyes.

"Speak for yourself," Dawn shot back. "I got at least a third of it."

"I got at least one out of twenty words," Xander joked.

"It's a complicated language," Giles said. "Not everyone can master it. Besides," he added, "there's more to being a Watcher than learning demon languages. Every Watcher has his or her own style."

"Giles," Kennedy interrupted, "can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Please, sit," Giles instructed, pointing to one of the dining room chairs. Kennedy moved into the room and sat. "What's on your mind?" He asked, sitting down as well.

Kennedy sighed. "I had another vision when Caleb stabbed me," she replied.

"I see," Giles said, taking off his glasses and slowly rubbing them on his shirt. "Of what?" He asked.

"I'm not really sure," Kennedy said. "I saw all of these barrels of wine lying around. And then a tunnel lined with torches. There was a room at the end of the tunnel and inside of it was this weapon laying on what looked like some kind of altar."

"What did the weapon look like?" Dawn asked as she and Xander pulled out notepads and pens and waited to jot down her description.

"I didn't see it for very long," Kennedy answered apologetically, "but it was long, like three or four feet. At one end was a metal blade. The other end was wooden and it was carved into a stake."

"Doesn't sound familiar," Xander said as he finished writing.

"No, it doesn't," Giles replied. "Alright," he said, thinking aloud. "Barrels of vine, that must mean that it's in a vineyard, or at least some sort of storage facility. Probably not in the home of an individual. Most people store their wine in bottles, not barrels," he joked, but no one laughed. Putting his glasses back on, he added, "California is a wine producing state."  
"So we should research vineyards in California for any demonic associations?" Xander asked.

"Probably start with places close to Sunnydale and work our way out," Dawn suggested.

"Both of you work on that," Giles said approvingly. "I want a full report on what you've found tomorrow morning."

"What are you gonna do?" Kennedy asked.

"I want to pull some volumes on weapons and have you look at them with me. See if you don't recognize something," Giles replied.

"Sounds like a plan," Kennedy said. Giles, Xander, and Dawn collectively got up in a flurry of excitement and left the room. Dawn and Xander were off to find the laptop and Giles to find more books. Kennedy waited. She could hear the television in the next room and the girls laughing. She suddenly felt incredibly alone.

"Not all you thought it would be?" Eli asked, appearing behind her and moving over to the chair that Giles had just vacated. He sat down next to her and propped his feet up on the table. Kennedy looked over at him. He looked so real, so human. But she knew that if she reached out and tried to grab his leg, her hand would pass through him.

"What?" She asked.

"Being a Slayer," Eli elaborated.

"What makes you say that?" Kennedy asked uncomfortably.

"Well, you're sitting in here by yourself," he answered. "I thought you'd be jazzed, unable to sit still. You've been waiting for this forever."

"I guess I didn't realize exactly what it would feel like," Kennedy said.

"Responsibility is a bitch," Eli replied.

Kennedy chuckled. "Where have you been anyway?"

"I figured you didn't want me hanging around while you and the redhead were getting physical," he replied with a salacious grin.

"Thanks," Kennedy said. "I appreciate that."

"No problem." Giles walked back into the room and Eli stood, moving away from the chair. The Watcher was loaded down with books. Had Giles sat on Eli, he would have simply sat through Eli. But years of having a solid, human body had trained Eli to move when someone was trying to sit on him.

"Alright," Giles said, stacking the books on the table and flipping open the pages of the first one. "Let's see what we can find."


	29. Waking Up

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Note: Yeah, so I realize that this has been a long, long, long time coming. Don't know what to say about that really. Things just got away from me.

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Waking Up:

Kennedy could hear Willow just starting to wake up as she stepped up to the bedroom door carrying a tray laden with coffee and a plate of eggs, courtesy of Dawn. Cooking had never really been her thing; Isaiah hadn't considered the finer points of scrambling eggs to be an important part of training to be a Slayer. Grasping the doorknob with one hand, while perfectly balancing the tray with the other, Kennedy couldn't help but smile at her newfound dexterity as she walked into the bedroom. Willow was just sitting up, holding a sheet around her otherwise naked body, with a slightly concerned look on her face, as Kennedy entered.

"There you are," Willow said, instantly brightening, her concern replaced with a happiness that seemed to radiate from inside of her, making her eyes glow.

"Didn't go far," Kennedy replied, moving over to the bed. "Breakfast, my lady?" She asked, holding the tray out for Willow to take.

"What about you?" Willow asked, eagerly accepting it. She was starving; there hadn't been much time for eating the night before.

"I've already eaten," Kennedy said. "I think Dawn was a little surprised with how much I can put away now."

"Slayers have bottomless stomachs," Willow agreed in between bites. Kennedy smiled and watched her lover eat. Her life had been a whirlwind since moving to Sunnydale. Between the revelation that she could touch the First, the visions she'd been having of the future, her near-death experiences, and the general trauma of living on the Hellmouth, she felt like she'd had little time to breathe, but last night with Willow had more than compensated. Kennedy had been with many girls, more perhaps than she should have, but she had never made love with any of them like she had with Willow. Her whole body felt relaxed, rested, even now.

"What're you grinning about?" Willow asked, eying her suspiciously as she ate the last of her eggs.

"Last night," Kennedy answered honestly and chuckled when Willow blushed. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about, Will. Last night was amazing."

"I thought so too," Willow said, putting the tray aside. She moved forward, the sheet slipping around her body, not enough to reveal anything, but just enough to make Kennedy want to see more. Closing her eyes, Kennedy felt Willow's lips on hers. Their tongues met and she moaned lowly in her throat, every nerve in her body lighting up. A fire began to burn in her belly and move downwards. Before she knew she was doing it, she was moving Willow backwards on the bed, sliding on top of her, her hands inching up the redhead's body.

A knock on the door interrupted them. Kennedy pulled away, growled in frustration, and was about to tell the person on the other side to shove it somewhere unpleasant when the door swung open and Dawn bounded inside. "I figured it out!" She said excitedly. "I was looking in this ancient Watcher diary and he mentioned something about a weapon. It's a legend really, but it matches the description you gave us almost perfectly and whoa!" She exclaimed, stumbling to a halt a few feet from the bed and shielding her eyes. "You didn't actually tell me to come in, did you?" Dawn asked.

"Not so much, no," Kennedy replied.

"I interrupted something, didn't I?" Dawn said.

"A little bit, yeah," Willow murmured, desperately trying to secure the sheet again.

"Okay," Dawn said, backing out of the room and knocking into the dresser in the process. "Ow," she said, rubbing her leg, "Not to worry. I'm leaving now. Recommence whatever it was that you were doing."

"Little late now," Kennedy muttered.

"But when you're done," Dawn said, "Giles would like to see you downstairs." She shut the door behind her and Kennedy sighed.

"At least that wasn't _Giles_," Willow said. "That would have been really embarrassing."

Kennedy snorted. "Can you picture his face?"

"He wouldn't stop cleaning his glasses for a week," Willow replied.

"I suppose I should go down there," Kennedy said, rising.

"What was Dawn talking about?" Willow asked curiously, getting up as well. She moved over to the closet, pulling out some clothes to wear.

"When Caleb stabbed me, I had a vision," Kennedy explained. Willow arched an eyebrow at her as she pulled on her jeans. "I probably should have mentioned that before."

"Probably," Willow commented.

"I _was_ a little busy though," Kennedy said suggestively.

"The vision?" Willow asked, steering her girlfriend back on topic.

"Right," Kennedy said. "It was of this weapon. I looked sort of like an ax, but long, with a stake on the other side of it. I saw all of these wine barrels around too. Giles thinks it might have been in a vineyard."

"Why would you have seen that?" Willow wondered aloud.

"I don't know," Kennedy shrugged. "Maybe Giles will tell us when we go downstairs."

Willow slipped her shirt on and followed Kennedy out of the bedroom. As they walked down the stairs, Willow couldn't help but notice how differently the others were treating Kennedy. The day before, they would have been talking with her and laughing as she went by, but now they were silent. "What's going on?" Willow asked as they moved into the dining room.

"I'm a Slayer now," Kennedy said simply. "I'm not one of them anymore."

The words themselves were said without emotion, but Willow could see the sadness in Kennedy's eyes. Being a Slayer wasn't everything that Kennedy thought it would be. The younger girl hadn't realized how isolating it could be until now. Willow laid her hand reassuringly on Kennedy's back as they entered the dining room. "I'm sure they'll be like they were before once they've gotten used to the idea," Willow said, though she knew they probably wouldn't.

"Yeah, maybe," Kennedy agreed, though she didn't believe it.

"Ah, Kennedy, good," Giles said, looking up from a dusty volume when they entered. "I see Dawn relayed my message. Across the table, Dawn choked on her coffee.

"You okay there, Dawn?" Kennedy asked, walking over and thumping her on the back with perhaps more force than was necessary. "Can't lose such a valuable member of the team, now can we?"

"I'm fine," Dawn murmured, her face bright red.

"What's going on?" Xander asked, unlike Giles, conscious of the fact that he had missed out on something.

"Nothing," Dawn murmured, her eyes rooted to the table.

"Yeah, nothing," Kennedy agreed, smiling with satisfaction as she sat next to Willow.

"At any rate," Giles said, ignoring the chatter around him, "we found some interesting information on the weapon you described. A previous Watcher wrote an entry in his journal on a legend he had heard about something called the weapon of the Slayer. It supposedly was a scythe used by the First Slayer and several generations of Slayers after her, until it was lost, or taken. Either way, it fell out of use and memory, it would appear. It became something of a legend, but even I don't remember hearing about it before now. It seems as though the First found it, or got its hands on it, and has it."

"The weapon of the Slayer," Kennedy murmured.

"Maybe that's why you had the vision," Willow said. "You were a part of the Slayer line even before you became one. This thing, whatever it is, is connected to you."

"Well, I don't know about you guys, but if it's the weapon of the Slayer, I want it back," Kennedy said.

"It must be important to the First. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to use it," Dawn said.

"Maybe he can't," Xander offered. "If it's a Slayer weapon, maybe only a Slayer can use it."

"Or maybe he doesn't need to use it," Giles said. "Maybe he only needs to prevent us from using it."

"In which case, it will be heavily guarded," Willow said.

"And we're already down one Slayer and a whole bunch of Potentials," Kennedy added. "They won't be too willing to walk into another dangerous situation, not with Faith out of the game."

"If the weapon is connected with the Slayer somehow," Giles mused, "it must be a mystical connection. It's as though the weapon was calling out to you, Kennedy. It knew you were part of the Slayer line, even as a Potential, and it wanted you to see it. It wants to be found by you, or at least someone like you."

"You think it might be more than a weapon?" Willow asked.

"If it's mystically bound up with the Slayer, perhaps even with the Slayer's power, than yes," Giles replied.

"So you think it has what?" Kennedy asked. "Powers of its own?"

"Maybe," Giles said. "We won't know until we have it."

"So you agree that we should try to get it back?" Dawn asked.

"I know that it's far from the right time to plan an attack of this sort, considering what happened at the high school, but if this weapon is something that the First is going out of its way to conceal than it's something we need to have," Giles reasoned.

"Just to play devil's advocate," Xander said, leaning his elbows on the table, "how do we know that the First didn't plant that vision in Kennedy's mind to get us to walk into another trap?"

Silence fell on the room as they thought about what he had said. Kennedy shifted uncomfortably. "I don't think it was," she finally said.

"It's done it before," Xander reminded her. "All it did was touch you and you were out, seeing things that it wanted you to see."

"This was different," Kennedy said, struggling to find the words. "When the First touched me, I felt like I had been infected with something, like there was this dark stain spreading over my mind that I couldn't wipe away. But when Caleb touched me, it was this snap and pop of images that raced through my brain like they weren't supposed to be there. I could only catch so much before they were gone. I was seeing something I wasn't supposed to be seeing. At least, that's how it felt." She felt Willow reach under the table and take her hand.

"Your reactions to the First have been very similar," Giles said. "Both when you touched it and when it touched you, you lost consciousness. When Caleb touched you, you didn't."

"Either way," Dawn said, "if we decide to try to find the vineyard, we can't make the same mistake we did last time. One Slayer goes, one Slayer stays."

"I agree," Giles said. "It was foolhardy of us to leave the Potentials unprotected here at the house."

"So…what's the next step?" Xander asked.

"I suppose we should start scouting out the vineyards in the area," Giles said thoughtfully. "Work our way out from Sunnydale until we find something."

"That could take a while," Dawn said.

"Then we better get started," Kennedy said, standing. "Give me a list of vineyards around town, I'll put a team together, and we'll check them out."

"What about Buffy?" Dawn asked.

"I don't think she's going to want to leave Faith's side for a while," Willow said quietly. "And I don't want to leave yours," she added, looking up at Kennedy. "I'm going with you."

Kennedy nodded, relieved that Willow wanted to come. She was a Slayer now, but she hadn't been for very long. Her strength and speed were still very new to her. Having a powerful witch standing beside her helped to quell the doubts she had about her own skills. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

….

When Faith awoke, she felt like she was on fire. Pain burned through every nerve ending, threatening to overwhelm her, consume her, and throw her back into the yawning blackness she had just crawled out of. She couldn't remember anything and as disconcerting as that was, she didn't dwell much on it. The pain was too intense, too much, and everything else seemed insignificant. Tears pricked at her still closed eyes, running down her face in hot streams. She gritted her teeth, trying to find a way to control the pain, but nothing worked. She had learned some meditation techniques in prison during her anger management classes, but she couldn't calm her mind enough to find that place where everything melted away into tranquility. Then hands were on her face, cool, soothing hands, rubbing away the tears. A voice filtered through, saying her name, telling her that everything would be okay. She opened her eyes.

Buffy was hovering over her, tears rolling down her cheeks as well. Then Faith remembered what had happened. They had gone to the high school to spy on the First and they had found a cache of weapons. Only too late had they realized that the First wanted them there. She remembered running, the flashing red numbers on the bomb ticking in front of her eyes. She had gotten to the door and then it exploded. It seemed as though there was something else there, another memory, hovering at the edge of her mind, but she couldn't quite grasp it. She didn't know why, but she thought of Tara. Whatever it was, whatever had happened, she knew that Tara had been involved, as unlikely as it seemed. She and Tara had never really known each other.

"You're okay," Buffy said softly, repeating the words over and over. "You're okay." Her voice brought Faith back into the present and back into the pain.

"Everything hurts," she murmured, her voice raspier than usual. She wondered how long she had been unconscious. It seemed as though her life was becoming more and more a series of blank spots.

"I know, baby," Buffy said, lying down next to her. She kept her hands on Faith, rubbing soothing circles on her arms or brushing her fingers over the planes of her face. "There isn't much I can do about that. Do you remember what happened?"

"Yes," Faith said. She tried to turn to face the blonde Slayer, but every muscle in her body screamed in protest.

"Stay still," Buffy immediately said. "Don't try to move yet."

"Don't worry," Faith said wryly. "I'm not doing that again."

Buffy smiled, though sadly. "You're gonna be okay."

"What about the girls?" Faith asked. She had brought so many Potentials with her down into the basement.

Buffy's face fell. "They didn't make it," she said.

"None of them?" Faith asked in surprise. She had known that many of them wouldn't make it; they had been too close to the bomb. However, she had hoped that some would've gotten far enough away from the blast to survive.

"No," Buffy replied.

"Shit," Faith murmured.

"The others have taken it badly," Buffy said.

"How long am I gonna be like this?" Faith asked. She tried flexing her fingers, but even that simple movement brought on another round of pain.

"A while," Buffy said. "You're in bad shape."

"How bad?" Faith asked.

"You died," Buffy said, her voice barely a whisper.

Faith arched an eyebrow. "I died?" She asked. She didn't know how to feel about that. She had always known that death was a possibility. Being a Slayer was perhaps the most dangerous job in the world, but she had always been confident in her ability to fight, to kill rather than be killed. She was beginning to realize that she wasn't as strong as she thought.

"Kennedy was called."

Faith chuckled. "Oh yeah?" She asked. "Good for her," she said. "She'll be a good Slayer."

Buffy nodded. "She's already got some girls out on a mission. The ones that still had any courage left anyway."

"You didn't go with them?" Faith asked.

"No," Buffy replied, gingerly wrapping her arms around Faith's broken body. "Someone had to stay with you."

"You could've had little D watch over me," Faith noted.

"Thing is," Buffy said, "I'm kinda in love with you and part of me being in love with you is me being there for you in all the hard times, like now."

"Well, I'm kinda in love with you too, B," Faith said. "I'm not really one to ask for help, but I get the feeling I'll be needing it. So, you'll be here, right?" She asked, her voice ringing with an uncertainty that all but broke Buffy's heart.

She leaned in and gently brushed her lips across the younger girl's. "Always."


	30. The Best Lack All Conviction

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Thirty: The Best Lack All Conviction:

When Buffy stepped out of the shower the next morning, Faith was standing in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest, wearing the same clothes she had been the night Buffy stabbed her on the rooftop. "You're not real," Buffy said, clutching her towel, gazing warily at the apparition in front of her.

"No, I'm not," the First said, shrugging. "I just thought I'd take my new body for a test drive. It's so much fun. You're just dropping like flies. I keep getting new toys to play with. First Kennedy, now Faith…"

"You have no right to wear her body," Buffy said angrily.

"Oh, of course I do," the First replied. "I have every right. After all, Faith has a good bit of me kicking around in her still. You know…evil," it said, grinning maliciously with Faith's mouth.

"Faith isn't like that anymore," Buffy said softly.

"You hope she isn't," the First countered, stepping closer and closer until it was standing directly in front of the blonde Slayer. "But you never really know with her, do you? Things'll be going along fine and then she just snaps," it said, snapping its fingers for emphasis. "I think there's something wrong in her head." It laughed and it was Faith's laugh ringing through the bathroom. "Of course, she is the productive of a shitty childhood."

Buffy shuddered. "Just leave," she said.

"Why would I want to do that?" It asked. "When staying here and tormenting you is so much fun. I was thinking of switching faces, you know, trying on Kennedy for size, and going across the hall to fuck with the witch. What do you think? Good plan?" It asked, smirking. "Your friend Willow has so many insecurities. It makes me giddy thinking of which one I'll prey on first."

"You've done enough already," Buffy replied, anger flaring in her eyes again. She stepped forward, nose to nose with the First Evil, but her confidence was feigned. She knew she could do nothing against it.

"I'm only just getting started," the First shot back. "You have no idea what I've got up my sleeve."

Buffy bit her tongue, silencing the retort that longed to find breath. She couldn't let the First know that they knew about the weapon. If that was what the First was talking about, it wouldn't be in its hands for much longer. "I do know this," Buffy said instead. "You're down one man and we're not. Faith may be injured, but you failed. She isn't dead. Last time I checked, Caleb was."

"Caleb was insignificant," the First said dismissively. "He was a pawn, a tool. I used him until he wasn't useful anymore." It paused and thought for a moment before adding, "You know, that sounds a lot like something Faith would do."

"You don't know her, not really," Buffy said.

"I know her better than you do. I know every inch of her. I've seen her in ways you never will," the First said, leaning forward. Its eyes fell to Buffy's lips. "You have no idea how many times she's fantasized about you. It's all she thought about in prison. Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. I wonder what Buffy is doing? I wonder _who_ Buffy is doing?" It laughed. "You know, for all her bravado, Faith really is one insecure, sensitive, little bitch."

"It's time for you to go," Buffy said. She wanted to push passed it, pretend like it didn't matter, like nothing it said hurt, but she couldn't. She was afraid of it; fear wasn't something that she liked to admit, not even to herself. She was a Slayer and she was supposed to be stronger than anything. But there were some things that still terrified her. The First Evil was one of them.

"Not yet," the First said. "I've still got one more thing I want to say to you before I go."

"I don't have all day," Buffy said, gritting her teeth.

"What do you think is going to happen when this is all said and done? Suppose you win," it said. "Good job, you saved the world. You and Faith will be riding high on that for a while, right? But then things will calm down. Life in Sunnydale will start to get boring. Faith is the restless sort, you know, B," it said, winking. "She'll get the itch. Settling down isn't something she knows how to do. She's not wired for it. Neither was her mother, for that," it added. "She'll start wanting things she can't have, or shouldn't have. Next thing you know, you'll be crying in the dark in your bedroom and she'll be off having a grand old time fucking someone else for a while until that gets boring too. That's the way she's always been; it's the way she'll always be." It paused, letting its words sink in. "Of course, you won't have to worry about this for long. You'll both be dead in a couple months. Sobering isn't it?" The First said and laughed. It blinked out of existence almost as quickly as it had come, leaving Buffy standing alone in the bathroom, the hand securing her towel trembling.

…

The skin under her eyes looked almost bruised, the dark, purple flesh becoming more and more pronounced as each night passed. Her hands, laying palm down on the countertop, were shaking slightly. She gazed into the mirror, unable to tear her eyes away from the ghostly image of herself staring back. She didn't know that at that moment, down the hall in the other bathroom, the First Evil was taunting her sister Slayer. "Kennedy?" Willow asked, knocking lightly on the bathroom door. "Are you okay?"

Kennedy closed her eyes and took a ragged breath. For a week, she, Willow, and a half dozen Potentials had been scouring the vineyards around town looking for the weapon she had seen in her vision. They hadn't found anything useful, only tipsy tourists and overpriced merlot, but the trips were becoming more and more difficult for her. Every time she walked out of the door, she was assaulted with visions of the dead. It seemed as though Sunnydale had more ghosts walking its streets than living people. "You have to answer her eventually. She won't go away."

"Maybe she should," Kennedy muttered. In the mirror, she could see Eli standing behind her.

"You don't mean that," Eli replied.

"I'm so fucked up," Kennedy said, wearily rubbing her hands over her face. She needed to sleep; she wanted to sleep, but she hadn't been able to for seven nights. Whenever she closed her eyes, the faces of the dead stared back at her. Physically, she was exhausted, but mentally, she was teetering on the edge.

"It's okay," Eli said. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms and comfort her, but he couldn't. "You're just going through a rough patch. You'll get through it."

"No, it's not," Kennedy said. "The girls think I'm crazy." Even Eli couldn't counter that. Most of the Potentials who had known about her abilities were dead. Only a few remained, but the rest had no idea that the newest Slayer could see dead people. Kennedy knew that her anxiety affected them. They didn't understand why she was so jittery on patrols and they misinterpreted Kennedy's anxiety for self-doubt. She stood in clear contrast to Buffy and Faith, both of whom exuded confidence and strength. Not only was she the newest Slayer, but the others were more and more starting to think of her as the weak one. The girls put their complete trust in Buffy and Faith, but not in Kennedy. She had their admiration and respect because of what she was, but not their trust. Something had to change, Kennedy knew that, or the girls would never look to her as a leader. She was already starting to lose them and she had only been a Slayer for a handful of days.

"Kennedy?" Willow called again, knocking louder.

"I wish I could just be normal," Kennedy said.

"Normal is overrated," Eli said. "I mean, look at me. My life didn't get remotely interesting until I died and became a ghost. That's not exactly normal, but I'm not complaining. At least, not all the time," he smirked, but his humor fell flat.

"I can't keep doing this," Kennedy said. She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, but not even the water could wash away the inky darkness she felt creeping over her skin. What she could see had always bothered her. Death, though a natural part of life, was disturbing to witness and the horrible injuries she had seen inflicted on people crowded her nightmares. But the ghosts she had seen never felt so real before, so invasive. She felt like she was losing herself, like she was blending slowly into unreality. Each time she saw death, it took a piece of her away.

"Please come out," Willow said, resting her head on the door. Kennedy had been in the bathroom for an hour and, despite her repeated attempts to get Kennedy to say something, anything, to let Willow know that she was okay, she had remained silent.

"You don't have to be alone," Eli said, moving forward. He reached out as though to touch her shoulder, but his hand passed through her skin.

"Slayers are always alone," she said hollowly. "Isn't that how it's supposed to be?"

"It doesn't have to," Eli said. "Open the door. Let Willow take away your pain, Kennedy. Let her help you sleep. I don't care what you do, just let her in."

Kennedy said and turned to face him. "Sometimes I don't think I'm strong enough for any of this," she admitted.

"You're the strongest person I know," Eli replied. "If you're not strong enough, no one is."

"Thanks," she said, offering him a small smile. "You're a better friend than I deserve." Turning to the door, the gripped the knob and twisted it slowly. Willow was standing on the other side, concern shining in her green eyes. "Sorry," Kennedy said. "I just needed to be alone for a while."

"Are you okay?" Willow asked, stepping forward and cupping her cheek.

Kennedy leaned into her touch. Part of her wanted to lie, to tell Willow that everything was fine. But she knew that she couldn't keep lying to everyone. She had been doing that all of her life. It was time she let someone in; Eli was right. "No," she murmured.

"You haven't been able to sleep," Willow noted.

"I can't get these things out of my head," Kennedy said in frustration.

"What things, baby?" Willow asked.

"All of their faces," Kennedy replied. "It's like I can't see anything but death anymore."

"Ken," Willow whispered, her heart breaking for the dark haired girl in front of her. Only a week ago, everything had seemed different. They had made love for the first time and, riding on the high of newfound love, anything had seemed possible to Willow. But she noticed that each time they went out with the Potentials to try to find the weapon, Kennedy would change into a different person. She was no longer the astute, sometimes overly confident woman Willow had fallen in love with, but a jittery shell of that woman. Kennedy's anxiety was infectious.

"I just want to sleep," Kennedy said. "Can you help me?" She asked.

Willow nodded, taking her by the hand and leading her over to their bed. "Lay down," she instructed. Kennedy lowered herself heavily onto the bed, turning to face Willow, who lay beside her. "Close your eyes," Willow said softly. She didn't like to use magic anymore, not after what she had almost done, but for Kennedy, she would do anything. Concentrating on the girl in front of her, Willow pushed a bubble of white magic out to surround them both. "You're safe with me," she said. "Go to sleep. I'll protect you."

It took a long time for Kennedy's breathing to even out. When it did, Willow breathed a sigh of relief. "I don't know if you can hear me, Eli," she whispered. "But I'm worried about her. Look after her when I can't." It was the first time Willow had ever spoken directly to Eli without Kennedy there as an intermediary. She didn't know if he was around, but she knew that she couldn't help Kennedy alone, not anymore.

….

The First liked wearing Kennedy's face almost as much as it liked wearing Buffy's. It liked looking in the mirror and seeing the newest Slayer peering back. Kennedy was the one thing that it feared, though it would never let any of its followers see that, but wearing her face made her seem somehow less powerful. It was an intimate thing, becoming someone else, but it was a violating kind of intimacy. The First knew everything about Kennedy now, everything that she had thought or experienced before she died. It knew Kennedy perhaps better than she knew herself and she knew what Kennedy's greatest fear was.

As it moved into the chamber where the scythe was being held, it contemplated its near victories. Kennedy had almost died, so had Faith. Though Caleb was dead, it felt that the balance hadn't yet tipped in favor of the Slayers. They were at a crossroads now, a turning point. Killing Potentials had been fun, but the First knew it was time to start playing a different game. Vampires were much more effective than Bringers. Its army was almost complete. It only needed a little more time, a matter of weeks, and it could destroy Sunnydale and everyone in it.

The scythe was resting in front of it now, gleaming in the torchlight. "So pretty," it said in Kennedy's voice. It couldn't actually touch the scythe, but it could still connect with it. The First, like the scythe, was a bundle of mystical energy. Reaching out with Kennedy's hand, the First dipped its fingers into the white light it could see surrounding the weapon.

"You see so much Kennedy," it whispered. "So many things. I've touched you before and shown you what I wanted. But now I want to try something a little different," it said. It could feel the power of the Slayer flowing through it, connecting it to the Potentials to Buffy, Faith, and Kennedy, and to all of the other girls who had come before. "You're not safe anywhere, Slayer," it murmured, grinning darkly. "Not even in your dreams."


	31. The Depths of the Ocean

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Chapter Thirty-One: The Depths of the Ocean:

Willow gradually became aware of something tugging at the back of her mind. At first, she dismissed it as her thoughts turning in a darker direction. She had been lying beside Kennedy, watching her sleep, shielding her in a protective bubble of white magic. Though she was content to be with her lover in a few rare moments of peace, her mind had been running endless loops of doubts and fears. She worried that being in Sunnydale was becoming too much for Kennedy to handle; she worried that the negative energies of the Hellmouth, which drew every kind of malevolent ghost and spirit to it, would infect the new Slayer's already fragile mind. Kennedy had been able to compartmentalize her visions when they came slowly and infrequently. Now that they were coming in rapid-fire succession, vision of death after vision of death, Willow worried that the toll on the dark haired girl might be too much.

But her anxieties pooled deeper than even that. They were facing an evil much bigger and more powerful than anyone, even the Slayer. Three Slayers had never existed at the same time before, but Willow wondered if even three Slayers would be capable of defeating something as primordial as the First Evil. The world had to end sometime; perhaps, this was its time, perhaps human beings had held dominion over the earth long enough, perhaps it was the time of the demons now. Buffy and the Scooby Gang had always been able to fight off whatever came their way, defending the world from more horrors than she cared to recount, but Willow knew that eventually every Slayer died, every moment of glory passed, and everything that once stood great and shining fell into nothingness. No matter what they did, what they accomplished, a day would come when no one would know the names Buffy Summer, Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris, or Faith Lehane. With her thoughts spiraling more and more into despair, Willow believed that little tugging in the back of her mind to be nothing more than one more worry struggling to come to light. However, when a searing pain shot through her skull, she realized that something was wrong.

Tears pricked at her eyes, forcing them closed, and she clenched her teeth. It wasn't a headache; it wasn't even a migraine. It felt as though someone had lit her brain on fire and nothing could put it out. She felt that protective embrace of white light surrounding Kennedy start to falter and she knew what was happening. Something was trying to get to the sleeping girl, something was trying to break through and destroy the defenses that Willow had established around her, and she knew without a doubt that it was going to win. She was strong, but whatever was attacking her was stronger. It felt like the First Evil, but there was something different about it that she couldn't place. An underlying energy, beneath the strong current of evil she felt flowing over her, pulsed just out of reach. It was familiar somehow, as though she had felt it every day humming in the background for years, but she couldn't identify it.

"Buffy!" She yelled, moving off of the bed, breaking the spell entirely, leaving Kennedy vulnerable and alone, as she clutched her head and fell to her knees on the floor.

The blonde Slayer rushed into the room, pausing in the doorway. She had been expecting to see the First, or a demon, or anything, but instead all she saw was Kennedy lying asleep on the bed and Willow kneeling on the floor beside her. "What's wrong?" She asked, moments before she saw the pain etched onto the redhead's face. Rushing over to her best friend's side, she steadied her. "What's going on? Willow?"

"It's the First," Willow said, her breath coming in short gasps. "Or at least I think so. I put Kennedy under a protection spell to help her sleep, but a few minutes ago I felt something trying to undo it. Then it all just started hurting."

"Giles!" Buffy called. Pummeling demons to a bloody pulp Buffy was good at; defending her friends against an invisible, magical force was not. "You're gonna be okay," she said. Giles would know what to do; he always did.

"It's not me I'm worried about," Willow said. Already, she could feel the pain starting to recede. She wasn't the target; the First didn't need to kill her, not yet, it just needed her out of the way for a moment. Looking over at Kennedy, she murmured, "It's her it's after." She didn't know what the First was trying to do, but in her sleep, Kennedy starting to twitch.

…

Kennedy knew the moment her dreams started to shift into something else. Part of her was angry that Willow hadn't been able to protect her. What was the use of magic of it didn't work? Self-reliance was a quality Kennedy possessed in abundance, but she had wanted to surrender herself to her lover's protection. She had wanted to feel secure. However, the greater part of her wasn't particularly surprised. She knew that Willow was powerful, though neither she nor the red haired witch knew just how much so yet, but she didn't believe that her lover was more powerful than the First. Magic was not something with which she had much experience. Her Watcher had never trained her in it and he had barely mentioned it.

Slayers weren't supposed to know how to do magic. They were just supposed to kill things. Kennedy didn't understand the deep wells of mystical energy that lay within the earth, within certain places or certain people, and within the very atoms and molecules that made up the smallest things. Willow understood better, but she doubted herself. Her trouble in the past kept her from realizing her true potential. Had she more confidence, she would have been able to ward off the First's attack on her protective barrier around Kennedy. As it was, the First didn't break it; she let it drop without knowing it, leaving Kennedy's mind entirely exposed. Thus, even though Kennedy had faith in her partner, she was too wary to truly believe that Willow could protect her. The First had gotten to her too many times already. The sting of the rope sliding over her skin and tightening around her neck still haunted her. The flash of pain as the knife slid easily through the flesh of her stomach still lingered in her nerves. Kennedy knew it was wrong, but she was starting to succumb to the belief that the First couldn't actually be stopped.

Departing from a hazy dream she could barely remember, Kennedy found herself standing on the edge of the ocean. The sky above her was cloudless, the sun shining down, though harshly. She could feel the sand between her bare feet, but it was hot. The waves crashed violently onto the shore, the water just out of reach. Everything about the scene in front of her seemed wrong somehow. She contemplated stepping forward to let the waves roll over her toes and cool her skin, but something about the water looked sinister to her. It was dark, too dark, an inky black. She couldn't see what was in it and the wild fear overcame her that if she walked into the water, something would be waiting for her, lurking in the murky depths, though she didn't know what.

She felt the presence behind her before she heard the step. Turning, she saw Eli walking toward her, but an angry, black mist swirled where his heart should have been. She paled. "Always nice to see you, Kennedy," the First said, speaking through Eli's voice. "It took me a long time to figure out how important he was to you," it said. "Otherwise, I would have come looking like him earlier."

"Go away," Kennedy groaned, turning back toward the sea. She was exhausted; she didn't have the emotional energy left to handle another confrontation.

"You know I'm not going to do that," the First said, stopping when it stood right next to her. "I did bring you here, after all. It would be rude of me to leave."

"Where is here?" Kennedy asked. She didn't want to look over at him. She didn't want to see the First wearing the face of one of her closest friends.

"The beach, of course," it said matter-of-factly.

"I've never been to the beach," Kennedy murmured. "I've seen the ocean, but I've never really come this close before." Despite her best intentions, she found herself talking to him just like she would to Eli. It was unnerving.

"Your Watcher never brought you to the beach?" The First asked.

"No," she replied. "We were too busy training." She paused, then sighed. "Fuck, why am I telling you all this?"

"Because you want to be sharing this moment with Eli and I look like him," the First said. "You and I have a very strange relationship, Kennedy."

"How so?" Kennedy replied, resigned to the fact that it would keep talking until it had said everything it wanted to say and maybe then it would let her wake up again.

"You're the only person in the world who can touch me," it said. "You're the only person in the world who can see me for whom I really am. When it comes time for all of this to end, I have the feeling it's going to end with us. And I'm going to kill you."

Kennedy finally worked up the nerve to look over at it. It looked like Eli, almost exactly, save for the black mist. But Kennedy noticed something else too. Eli's eyes were always light from within, sparkling with humor and vivacity, even though he was dead. The First's eyes, even when wearing Eli's face, were a void of darkness. Looking at it was nothing like looking at Eli and she found her heart hardening against it again. "I wouldn't count on it. You've tried twice already and failed. Maybe you're not as powerful as you think," she shot back, though she knew she was wrong.

"I sent others to do what I should have done myself," the First replied.

"You come after me, you'll be totally vulnerable," Kennedy said.

"Not totally," it said simply.

Kennedy immediately pictured the army of Turok-Han vampires she had seen in the tower of memory and shuddered. She could touch the First, she could kill it just like any other creature, but she would have to get close enough to it first. An army of ancient vampires would make that impossible. "Leave me alone," she muttered, turning back to the water.

"I don't think you understand why I brought you here, Kennedy," the First said.

"Okay, I'll play. Why did you bring me here?" She asked exasperatedly.

"This beach is mine," the First replied. "I brought you here. I tell you when you can leave. And I can change the rules," it replied, grinning mischievously over at her. "But most importantly, this place is as real as your reality. So," it said, just as Kennedy saw a flash of silver out of the corner of her eye, "if you die here, you die there." The First lunged at her, slashing the knife that had appeared right before her eyes at her midsection.

"Shit!" She yelled, stumbling backward, losing her balance in the sand.

It darted forward, thrusting the knife wildly. Kennedy only had time to lift her hands to block the blade. It sliced open her left palm, a splash of red mixing with the water now crashing over her. The water was cold and it made her clothes hang heavily against her body. Already, she felt fatigued. Even though she was a Slayer, her powers did little to help her. This world the First had created wasn't hers. Kicking her leg out, she knocked the First down and scrambled to her feet, but it was up again before she could brace herself for the next attack. The knife sliced through her forearm, hot pain searing through her nerves. She gritted her teeth and slapped the knife away, aiming a barrage of punches at the First's midsection, though each punch seemed to do little more than tire her and amuse her opponent. She danced backward, out of reach of the blade, and quickly surveyed her options. The beach seemed to stretch on interminably. She couldn't see any buildings, any roads, anything to indicate that the beach ended and something else began. A wide expanse of sand stretched out before her. She couldn't run from the First; she didn't know to where she would be running. The only other option was the water. The water, which had seemed so sinister and repulsive before, suddenly seemed to beckon to her, calling her into its embrace.

The First lunged at her again and she darted back into the waves. Immediately, she knew that she had made the right move. The First froze just out of reach of the waves, as though it couldn't touch the water. Kennedy stood in the midst of the ocean for several long moments, watching the First, before it dawned on her. "You can't come in the water, can you?" Kennedy asked, a smiling lighting up her face.

"You can't hide in there forever," the First growled, its face, Eli's face, twisting up in rage. It slashed the knife at her again, even though they both knew she was too far away.

"Why can't you touch the water?" Kennedy asked, backing further into the ocean, until she was waist deep. Stepping tentatively with one foot, she felt the ground behind her plunge down. She was at the edge of the sandbar. The deep ocean was just behind her.

"It's not mine," the First said reluctantly.

"I thought this whole place was yours," Kennedy said in confusion.

"I said the beach was mine," the First shot back. It started pacing back and forth, not even trying to restrain its anger and frustration, but never once touching the water.

"Whose is it then?" Kennedy asked, pushing back so she had to tread water to stay afloat. She didn't know why she kept moving backward; she wanted to put as much space between her and the First as she could. Yet, she felt something else, a pull to move further and further out into the ocean, beyond the waves, toward the horizon that lingered so far away.

"Hers," the First replied. Before Kennedy could answer, she felt an immense presence latch onto her legs and tug. She barely had enough time to suck in a lungful of air before it pulled her under. The black water closed over her, not even a ripple marring the surface of the sea.


	32. With the Bones of Your Ancestors

Slouching Towards Bethlehem

Notes: Yeah, so….long time huh? Sorry about that.

Chapter Thirty-Two: With the Bones of Your Ancestors:

Too many times of late Buffy had felt these out of body experiences – moments when she could do nothing but watch life collapsing around her. A numb weightlessness, she had felt it when the Master bit her; she had felt it when she stabbed Angel; she had felt it when she stabbed Faith; she had felt it when the demons broke out in the Initiative; she had felt it when Glory took Dawn; she had felt it when Willow tried to end the world. The same feeling struck her when Caleb took Kennedy. The same feeling crept into her mind when the high school exploded with Faith trapped in the basement. Now, she felt it again as she stood in Willow's bedroom, torn between running over to her best friend, who lay writhing on the floor, or Kennedy, whose eyes were rolling back in her head as her hands twitched violently. She heard Giles yell something at Xander and Dawn. Vaguely, she heard the tramping of feet as the Potentials raced up the stairs to see what was happening. Before they could burst through the door, Dawn slammed it shut and locked it, pressing her back against it. Xander raced across the room and grabbed Willow, who had started trying to claw her own face. Trapping her arms beneath his, he held her in a tight embrace, muttering comforting words in her ear, though she didn't appear to hear him. Then Giles started chanting.

All Buffy could do was watch. Without any demons to fight or vampires to slay, she was useless. Willow and Kennedy were being attacked by something far greater than she and she knew that, if it was strong enough to invade their home, to invade their very minds, it was strong enough to beat them. Just like Glory. Buffy closed her eyes, remembering so clearly that moment in the Magic Box when she had grabbed a book from Giles to put away and found herself truly believing that she would lose. She remembered the relief that coursed through her body when she thought about laying down her weapons. She remembered how she longed for it – defeat – longed with every cell to be rid of the weight that lingered on her shoulders every day. Then she remembered Willow, who had barged so uninvited into her mind and told her exactly what she needed to know. Buffy was a Slayer, but she was still only human and it was okay to be human. It was okay to lose faith; it was okay to be worried; it was okay to want something different out of life. It was all okay because, at the very bottom of everything, she was more than _just_ human. She was so much more.

Buffy opened her eyes and looked down at Kennedy. She wasn't a witch; she had no idea how to fight mystical forces, but she and Kennedy were connected in a way that no one else in the room could claim. They were both Slayers. Moving over to the bed, she gingerly lifted Kennedy onto her lap, tightly gripping her sister Slayer's hand with her own, trying to impart to the younger girl some of her strength. She frowned, feeling something warm and wet between their palms and looked down at their joined hands. "Giles?" She asked, glancing over at her Watcher.

"I don't think now is the best time," Xander gritted out between clenched teeth. "He's kinda busy." Willow twisted violently in his arms, moaning lowly in her throat. One of her hands broke free from Xander's grasp and she tried to claw feverishly at her wrist, but he secured her fingers in his own before she could, her nails digging into his flesh instead. Giles's voice rose louder and louder. His eyes were screwed shut and a sheen of sweat dotted his forehead.

"She's bleeding," Buffy said.

"What?" Xander asked, looking over at the blonde woman.

"Kennedy's bleeding," Buffy repeated. "Her hand…it's like she was slashed."

"Are there invisible demons again?" Xander asked warily. "Because that was totally unfair."

"I don't think so," Buffy said slowly. The Slayer within her rose up, tasting the air in the room, searching. She could feel something hovering over them, a darkness with no shape, no limits, no end – evil, pure evil, diffuse and controlling. "Willow said the First was attacking the protection spell she put on Kennedy. I can feel evil, but nothing demonic."

"Everything's fine!" Dawn yelled at the Potentials on the other side of the door. "Just go back downstairs."

"So how did she injure herself?" Xander asked. "And for God sakes, Giles, hurry up," he added. Seeing his oldest friend in so much pain was almost more than he could bear.

"I don't think _she_ did," Buffy replied, looking down at the unconscious girl in her arms.

…..

The water was cold around her, enveloping her in a deathly chill that seemed to drain all of the warmth from her body. Vaguely, above her, she saw the sun slanting down through the sea. But then the light went out. Darkness surrounded her and, in the darkness, she saw shapes moving, massive forms that glided by silently. Ever downward she was pulled and, no matter how hard she kicked or twisted or struggled against the weight embracing her legs, she couldn't break free. Her lungs burned for want of oxygen, the gulp of air she had taken before disappearing beneath the surface of the waves almost gone. A feeling of numbness started to spread through her mind and limbs and she stopped fighting. Calm washed over her as the last of her oxygen slipped away.

The burning in her lungs stopped. She should have needed to take a breath, but she didn't. Glancing down, she saw a faint light growing steadily brighter and brighter beneath her. She could see the bottom of the ocean – a vast expanse of golden sand. As the light grew more and more, she realized that she was looking at a fire burning on the bottom of the world. The water started to warm. The eerie shapes moving just out of sight vanished and, with a gentle plunk, she found herself sitting on the sand. Whatever had grabbed her legs was gone. For a moment, she was alone and she felt incredibly at peace. She closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and realized with a jolt that she could breathe underwater.

Her eyes shot open in surprise, but before she could think much about this discovery, she saw something moving at the edge of the fire. A woman was drawing closer. Her wild dark hair was matted in dreadlocks and her face was streaked with white paint. She moved like an animal, hunched over and stalking slowly through the water. The way she moved was terrifying, predatory, but Kennedy knew instinctively that she didn't have to fear her.

"This is yours, isn't it?" She said. "The beach is his, but this is yours."

"He only thinks it's his," the woman replied. She sat cross legged on the other side of the fire, watching Kennedy intently. "He doesn't know."

"Doesn't know what?" Kennedy asked. "Who are you?"

"I'm the First," the woman replied.

"What?" Kennedy asked, jerking away from the fire, fear coursing through her blood. "You can't be; the First was afraid to touch the water."

"Not the First Evil," the woman corrected soothingly. "The First Slayer. Everything has its first."

"Oh," Kennedy said, her heart slowing from its frenetic pace. "The First Slayer?" She asked, scooting closer to the fire again. "I don't understand."

"It's not for us to understand," the First Slayer replied. "We just are."

"Okay," Kennedy replied confusedly. "And we just are…where?"

"The beach of the eternal. The last place. And also the first," she replied. "The clearing at the edge of the woods. Sit," she instructed. "Sit with the bones of your ancestors."

The water around Kennedy seemed to shimmer, to move, though no currents flowed so deep. In the light that sparked all around her, faces started to appear – the faces of the dead. They moved all around her, so many, and she didn't know any of them. A million faces they seemed to her, all women, all dead, all peaceful. These faces weren't like the dead faces she saw in Sunnydale. They weren't charred or mangled or angry. They weren't staring through her, into her very soul, as though they wanted to rip it out through her throat and consume it. A serenity passed among them that Kennedy had never felt in life. They were all holding hands; they were together. Like the First Slayer sitting across from her, they all came up to the fire and sat in rings around it, always touching. When they were all seated, Kennedy noticed two more faces moving through the crowd, walking slowly, holding hands, both with ghosts of smiles gracing their lips.

Buffy and Faith said next to Kennedy in the ring of women closest to the fire. They didn't say anything, but Buffy reached over and grabbed Kennedy's hand in her own. The moment she felt the older woman's fingers lace through hers, strength surged through her. "What is this? Who are all these people?" Kennedy asked, looking back at the First Slayer.

"We are the Slayer," she replied. "We are all the Slayer."

"Death is our gift," Buffy said, staring intently at the flames dancing before her.

"In death," Faith said, "we are never alone."

"In life," Buffy said at the same time, "we are never alone."

"But to be the Slayer is to be alone," Kennedy countered. "That's what my Watcher always said."

"Watchers understand," the First Slayer replied. "We are."

"We are what?" Kennedy asked, irritability staining her voice.

"Death is our gift," Buffy repeated.

"And so is life," Faith said.

"We are life," the First Slayer whispered, though Kennedy heard her clearly.

"We are everything," another women said.

"Do you see now?" The First Slayer asked.

"See what?" Kennedy asked.

"The connection," Buffy said, shifting her eyes from the fire to their hands. Kennedy followed her gaze and gasped when she saw a blue light emanating from their interlaced fingers. All around her, the ocean started to glow blue. From each pair of joined hands the light spread, circles of blue light shining through the darkness.

"We are the Slayer," a chorus of voices rang out in the water. "We are."

"The First Evil thinks it knows…what's to come. It has no idea," the First Slayer said. "The spark is in us all."

Silence fell between them as the light glowed on and on, pulsing through the water. Kennedy felt something stir inside of her and she knew that it was time for her to go. When she released Buffy's hand and stood, she could still see the blue light shining just beneath her skin. "I'll see you soon," she said, looking down at the older girl.

"Off to the see the wizard?" She asked, gazing up at Kennedy with innocence shining in her eyes. "We'll be here," she added. "Don't forget my toy."

Before Kennedy could reply, she felt something tugging at her arms, pulling her up. Her feet left the sand and she found herself swimming up through the water, back into the darkness. The blue light at the bottom faded, but she could still see it burning below, however faintly, even as she began to see sunlight piercing through the water again in greenish yellow rays. Her lungs started to burn as she neared the surface. Her muscles strained, each powerful stroke of her arms, each thrusting kick, bringing her closer and closer to breaking the calm. Finally, her head shot through the water and she took a long deep breath.

When she became aware of the world again, she felt someone holding her, but the embrace wasn't familiar; it wasn't Willow's. She started coughing, the taste of the ocean still on her lips. As she let her eyes settle on her surroundings, she realized that she was no longer at the beach. She was back in Willow's bedroom. "What the hell," she muttered, twisting around to see whose hands were still firmly holding her down. "Buffy?" She asked, confused to see her sister Slayer behind her.

"Are you okay?" Buffy asked. "Are you back?"

"Back from where?" Kennedy asked.

"You tell me," Buffy replied.

"You threw a scare into us, kiddo," Eli said, hovering worriedly next to the bed. Kennedy shifted her eyes around the room, smiling lopsidedly at Eli before she noticed Dawn, who stood with her back to the door, desperately trying to keep it closed. Then she saw Giles, who was gazing at her perplexedly, his mouth open, as though he had been speaking. Her eyes landed on Xander last. He was sitting on the floor, holding Willow in his arms. The red haired witch was slowly calming, her eyes fluttering as she struggled to regain her hold on reality. "Fuck," Kennedy muttered, breaking free of Buffy's grasp and throwing herself on the floor where Willow lay. Cupping the witch's face with her hands, she breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Willow's eyes fix on hers. "You okay, baby?" She asked.

Willow nodded wearily. "Okay," she murmured. "If by okay you mean completely exhausted and confused and paranoid and we are never, ever, sleeping again."

Kennedy chuckled and brushed a strand of sweat slicked hair behind Willow's ear. "I think we'll have to sleep sometime."

"Nope," Willow said, shaking her head and, with Xander's help, pulling herself into sitting position. "See this?" She asked, pointing to her face. "This is resolve face."

"There's no fighting resolve face," Xander said, laughter in his voice and relief shining behind his eyes.

"If I may," Giles interrupted, clearing his throat, "what exactly happened?"

"Yeah, I second that question," Dawn said, sliding down into a sitting position by the door. "Because this whole thing…way freaky." Someone pounded on the door and she rolled her eyes. "We're fine!" She yelled. "Go back downstairs. Seriously!"

"The First broke through the protection spell I put on Kennedy while she was sleeping," Willow explained, leaning back so that she was resting against both her girlfriend and Xander.

"What for?" Buffy asked. "Kennedy, what happened?"

"Yeah," Eli said. "I couldn't find you anywhere."

"It tried to kill me," Kennedy said, shuddering slightly. She could still hear the waves crashing against the beach, smell the salt in the air, feel the sting of his knife against her hand. Glancing down, she realized that sting wasn't metaphorical. A ragged gash lined her palm. "Huh," she said.

"How did that happen?" Willow and Eli both asked at the same time, following her gaze.

"It cut me with a knife," Kennedy replied.

"In your dream?" Giles asked.

"I don't think it was a dream," Kennedy replied. "I don't know what it was exactly," she said. "But the First seemed to think that if it killed me there, I would die here."

"Lovely," Eli murmured.

"And it gets even creepier," Dawn muttered. "We're all gonna need some serious therapy by the time this is said and done."

"And lots of pretty little pills," Xander joked. Giles clear his throat again, glancing pointedly at his two students, who grinned sheepishly back.

"How did you get away?" Buffy asked curiously.

Kennedy glanced over at her and smiled slightly. Even now, she realized, she could see a faint blue light around the older Slayer – a faint blue light that connected them, not only to each other, not only to Faith, but to every Slayer who had ever been. "The First Slayer," Kennedy replied.

"Oh, not her again," Willow muttered.

"What?" Kennedy asked, planting a soft kiss on her lover's neck.

"She kinda doesn't like us," Xander replied.

"Tried to kill us all in our sleep," Giles said. "Bloody well scalped me," he added in a low mutter.

"Hey," Buffy interjected. "She's not _that_ bad. I mean, there was the stalking through our dreams thing. And the stabbing with the knife. But there was also that really confusing vision quest thing in the desert where she was kinda helpful. Well…not really. But I think she was trying to be."

"Well, she was nice to me," Kennedy said. Every turned to look at her and she shrugged. "What? She was."

"So the First Slayer helped you to escape from the First Evil?" Dawn asked, steering the conversation back on topic.

"Your life has gotten extremely complicated," Eli joked.

"Yeah," Kennedy rolled her eyes at her ghostly friend and replied. "At first, I thought she was trying to drown me."

"See!" Xander said. "Doesn't like us."

Kennedy glared over at him and continued. "But then I figured out that I could breathe underwater."

"Kenn, honey," Willow interjected, craning her neck to look back at the younger girl. "What are you talking about?"

"Was there a guy with cheese?" Buffy asked suddenly. "I still can't figure out why he was there," she mumbled. "Couldn't have been a guy with sharp, pointy objects?"

"No," Kennedy said slowly, looking at Buffy like she was slightly insane. "You know what…nevermind. The point is that the First Slayer came and we talked and there was a fire and all the souls of the previous Slayers came and we sat in this circle and held hands and there was a blue light."

"You sat in a circle and held hands?" Xander asked. "Man, the First Slayer's gotten soft in her old…deadness."

"It was nice," Kennedy said defensively. "And peaceful."

"What was the blue light?" Buffy asked.

"The connection," Kennedy replied. "She said that we're all connected all the time. We're never alone because we're always connected to each other." Their eyes locked and Buffy smiled slightly. She and Kennedy hadn't gotten along when the former Potential first arrived. Kennedy's overzealous flirting with Willow and her secret ability to see death had made Buffy question her motives from the very start. But they understood each other now. They were both Slayers and they _were_ connected. Something tugged at the corners of Buffy's mind, an idea, something not fully formed yet, but lingering there no less.

"We're always connected," she muttered.

"Oh," Kennedy added, "and I think it's about time we found that Scythe thing."

"Why's that?" Buffy asked, focusing her attention back on her friends.

"Well, you told me to."


End file.
